XIV
An hour later Langham rose with a protesting sigh and shook the hoodviolently.
"I say!" he called. "Are you asleep up there. We'll never get home atthis rate. Doesn't Hope want to come back here and go to sleep?"
The carriage stopped, and the boys tumbled out and walked around infront of it. Hope sat smiling on the box-seat. She was apparently farfrom sleepy, and she was quite contented where she was, she told him.
"Do you know we haven't had anything to eat since yesterday atbreakfast?" asked Langham. "MacWilliams and I are fainting. We movethat we stop at the next shack we come to, and waken the people up andmake them give us some supper."
Hope looked aside at Clay and laughed softly. "Supper?" she said."They want supper!"
Their suffering did not seem to impress Clay deeply. He sat snappinghis whip at the palm-trees above him, and smiled happily in aninconsequent and irritating manner at nothing.
"See here! Do you know that we are lost?" demanded Langham,indignantly, "and starving? Have you any idea at all where you are?"
"I have not," said Clay, cheerfully. "All I know is that a long timeago there was a revolution and a woman with jewels, who escaped in anopen boat, and I recollect playing that I was a target and standing upto be shot at in a bright light. After that I woke up to the reallyimportant things of life--among which supper is not one."
Langham and MacWilliams looked at each other doubtfully, and Langhamshook his head.
"Get down off that box," he commanded. "If you and Hope think this ismerely a pleasant moonlight drive, we don't. You two can sit in thecarriage now, and we'll take a turn at driving, and we'll guarantee toget you to some place soon."
Clay and Hope descended meekly and seated themselves under the hood,where they could look out upon the moonlit road as it unrolled behindthem. But they were no longer to enjoy their former leisurelyprogress. The new whip lashed his horses into a gallop, and the treesflew past them on either hand.
"Do you remember that chap in the 'Last Ride Together'?" said Clay.
"I and my mistress, side by side, Shall be together--forever ride, And so one more day am I deified. Who knows--the world may end to-night."
Hope laughed triumphantly, and threw out her arms as though she wouldembrace the whole beautiful world that stretched around them.
"Oh, no," she laughed. "To-night the world has just begun."
The carriage stopped, and there was a confusion of voices on thebox-seat, and then a great barking of dogs, and they beheld MacWilliamsbeating and kicking at the door of a hut. The door opened for an inch,and there was a long debate in Spanish, and finally the door was closedagain, and a light appeared through the windows. A few minutes later aman and woman came out of the hut, shivering and yawning, and made afire in the sun-baked oven at the side of the house. Hope and Clayremained seated in the carriage, and watched the flames springing upfrom the oily fagots, and the boys moving about with flaring torches ofpine, pulling down bundles of fodder for the horses from the roof ofthe kitchen, while two sleepy girls disappeared toward a mountainstream, one carrying a jar on her shoulder, and the other lighting theway with a torch. Hope sat with her chin on her hand, watching theblack figures passing between them and the fire, and standing above itwith its light on their faces, shading their eyes from the heat withone hand, and stirring something in a smoking caldron with the other.Hope felt an overflowing sense of gratitude to these simple strangersfor the trouble they were taking. She felt how good every one was, andhow wonderfully kind and generous was the world that she lived in.
Her brother came over to the carriage and bowed with mock courtesy.
"I trust, now that we have done all the work," he said, "that yourexcellencies will condescend to share our frugal fare, or must we bringit to you here?"
The clay oven stood in the middle of a hut of laced twigs, throughwhich the smoke drifted freely. There was a row of wooden benchesaround it, and they all seated themselves and ate ravenously of riceand fried plantains, while the woman patted and tossed tortillasbetween her hands, eyeing her guests curiously. Her glance fell uponLangham's shoulder, and rested there for so long that Hope followed thedirection of her eyes. She leaped to her feet with a cry of fear andreproach, and ran toward her brother.
"Ted!" she cried, "you are hurt! you are wounded, and you never toldme! What is it? Is it very bad?" Clay crossed the floor in a stride,his face full of concern.
"Leave me alone!" cried the stern brother, backing away and wardingthem off with the coffeepot. "It's only scratched. You'll spill thecoffee."
But at the sight of the blood Hope had turned very white, and throwingher arms around her brother's neck, hid her eyes on his other shoulderand began to cry.
"I am so selfish," she sobbed. "I have been so happy and you weresuffering all the time."
Her brother stared at the others in dismay. "What nonsense," he said,patting her on the shoulder. "You're a bit tired, and you need rest.That's what you need. The idea of my sister going off in hystericsafter behaving like such a sport--and before these young ladies, too.Aren't you ashamed?"
"I should think they'd be ashamed," said MacWilliams, severely, as hecontinued placidly with his supper. "They haven't got enough clotheson."
Langham looked over Hope's shoulder at Clay and nodded significantly."She's been on a good deal of a strain," he explained apologetically,"and no wonder; it's been rather an unusual night for her."
Hope raised her head and smiled at him through her tears. Then sheturned and moved toward Clay. She brushed her eyes with the back ofher hand and laughed. "It has been an unusual night," she said."Shall I tell him?" she asked.
Clay straightened himself unconsciously, and stepped beside her andtook her hand; MacWilliams quickly lowered to the bench the dish fromwhich he was eating, and stood up, too. The people of the house staredat the group in the firelight with puzzled interest, at the beautifulyoung girl, and at the tall, sunburned young man at her side. Langhamlooked from his sister to Clay and back again, and laughed uneasily.
"Langham, I have been very bold," said Clay. "I have asked your sisterto marry me--and she has said that she would."
Langham flushed as red as his sister. He felt himself at adisadvantage in the presence of a love as great and strong as he knewthis must be. It made him seem strangely young and inadequate. Hecrossed over to his sister awkwardly and kissed her, and then tookClay's hand, and the three stood together and looked at one another,and there was no sign of doubt or question in the face of any one ofthem. They stood so for some little time, smiling and exclaimingtogether, and utterly unconscious of anything but their own delight andhappiness. MacWilliams watched them, his face puckered into oddwrinkles and his eyes half-closed. Hope suddenly broke away from theothers and turned toward him with her hands held out.
"Have you nothing to say to me, Mr. MacWilliams?" she asked.
MacWilliams looked doubtfully at Clay, as though from force of habit hemust ask advice from his chief first, and then took the hands that sheheld out to him and shook them up and down. His usual confidenceseemed to have forsaken him, and he stood, shifting from one foot tothe other, smiling and abashed.
"Well, I always said they didn't make them any better than you," hegasped at last. "I was always telling him that, wasn't I?" He noddedenergetically at Clay. "And that's so; they don't make 'em any betterthan you."
He dropped her hands and crossed over to Clay, and stood surveying himwith a smile of wonder and admiration.
"How'd you do it?" he demanded. "How did you do it? I suppose youknow," he asked sternly, "that you're not good enough for Miss Hope?You know that, don't you?"
"Of course I know that," said Clay.
MacWilliams walked toward the door and stood in it for a second,looking back at them over his shoulder. "They don't make them anybetter than that," he reiterated gravely, and disappeared in thedirection of the horses, shaking his head a
nd muttering hisastonishment and delight.
"Please give me some money," Hope said to Clay. "All the money youhave," she added, smiling at her presumption of authority over him,"and you, too, Ted." The men emptied their pockets, and Hope pouredthe mass of silver into the hands of the women, who gazed at ituncomprehendingly.
"Thank you for your trouble and your good supper," Hope said inSpanish, "and may no evil come to your house."
The woman and her daughters followed her to the carriage, bowing anduttering good wishes in the extravagant metaphor of their country; andas they drove away, Hope waved her hand to them as she sank closeragainst Clay's shoulder.
"The world is full of such kind and gentle souls," she said.
In an hour they had regained the main road, and a little later thestars grew dim and the moonlight faded, and trees and bushes and rocksbegan to take substance and to grow into form and outline. They saw bythe cool, gray light of the morning the familiar hills around thecapital, and at a cry from the boys on the box-seat, they looked aheadand beheld the harbor of Valencia at their feet, lying as placid andundisturbed as the water in a bath-tub. As they turned up the hillinto the road that led to the Palms, they saw the sleeping capital likea city of the dead below them, its white buildings reddened with thelight of the rising sun. From three places in different parts of thecity, thick columns of smoke rose lazily to the sky.
"I had forgotten!" said Clay; "they have been having a revolution here.It seems so long ago."
By five o'clock they had reached the gate of the Palms, and theirappearance startled the sentry on post into a state of undisciplinedjoy. A riderless pony, the one upon which Jose' had made his escapewhen the firing began, had crept into the stable an hour previous,stiff and bruised and weary, and had led the people at the Palms tofear the worst.
Mr. Langham and his daughter were standing on the veranda as the horsescame galloping up the avenue. They had been awake all the night, andthe face of each was white and drawn with anxiety and loss of sleep.Mr. Langham caught Hope in his arms and held her face close to his insilence.
"Where have you been?" he said at last. "Why did you treat me likethis? You knew how I would suffer."
"I could not help it," Hope cried. "I had to go with Madame Alvarez."
Her sister had suffered as acutely as had Mr. Langham himself, as longas she was in ignorance of Hope's whereabouts. But now that she sawHope in the flesh again, she felt a reaction against her for theanxiety and distress she had caused them.
"My dear Hope," she said, "is every one to be sacrificed for MadameAlvarez? What possible use could you be to her at such a time? It wasnot the time nor the place for a young girl. You were only anotherresponsibility for the men."
"Clay seemed willing to accept the responsibility," said Langham,without a smile. "And, besides," he added, "if Hope had not been withus we might never have reached home alive."
But it was only after much earnest protest and many explanations thatMr. Langham was pacified, and felt assured that his son's wound was notdangerous, and that his daughter was quite safe.
Miss Langham and himself, he said, had passed a trying night. There hadbeen much firing in the city, and continual uproar. The houses ofseveral of the friends of Alvarez had been burned and sacked. Alvarezhimself had been shot as soon as he had entered the yard of themilitary prison. It was then given out that he had committed suicide.Mendoza had not dared to kill Rojas, because of the feeling of thepeople toward him, and had even shown him to the mob from behind thebars of one of the windows in order to satisfy them that he was stillliving. The British Minister had sent to the Palace for the body ofCaptain Stuart, and had had it escorted to the Legation, from whence itwould be sent to England. This, as far as Mr. Langham had heard, wasthe news of the night just over.
"Two native officers called here for you about midnight, Clay," hecontinued, "and they are still waiting for you below at your office.They came from Rojas's troops, who are encamped on the hills at theother side of the city. They wanted you to join them with the men fromthe mines. I told them I did not know when you would return, and theysaid they would wait. If you could have been here last night, it ispossible that we might have done something, but now that it is allover, I am glad that you saved that woman instead. I should haveliked, though, to have struck one blow at them. But we cannot hope towin against assassins. The death of young Stuart has hurt me terribly,and the murder of Alvarez, coming on top of it, has made me wish I hadnever heard of nor seen Olancho. I have decided to go away at once, onthe next steamer, and I will take my daughters with me, and Ted, too.The State Department at Washington can fight with Mendoza for themines. You made a good stand, but they made a better one, and theyhave beaten us. Mendoza's coup d'etat has passed into history, and therevolution is at an end."
On his arrival Clay had at once asked for a cigar, and while Mr.Langham was speaking he had been biting it between his teeth, with theserious satisfaction of a man who had been twelve hours without one.He knocked the ashes from it and considered the burning endthoughtfully. Then he glanced at Hope as she stood among the group onthe veranda. She was waiting for his reply and watching him intently.He seemed to be confident that she would approve of the only course hesaw open to him.
"The revolution is not at an end by any means, Mr. Langham," he said atlast, simply. "It has just begun." He turned abruptly and walked awayin the direction of the office, and MacWilliams and Langham stepped offthe veranda and followed him as a matter of course.
The soldiers in the army who were known to be faithful to General Rojasbelonged to the Third and Fourth regiments, and numbered four thousandon paper, and two thousand by count of heads. When they had seen theirleader taken prisoner, and swept off the parade-ground by Mendoza'scavalry, they had first attempted to follow in pursuit and recapturehim, but the men on horseback had at once shaken off the men on footand left them, panting and breathless, in the dust behind them. Sothey halted uncertainly in the road, and their young officers heldcounsel together. They first considered the advisability of attackingthe military prison, but decided against doing so, as it would lead,they feared, whether it proved successful or not, to the murder ofRojas. It was impossible to return to the city where Mendoza's Firstand Second regiments greatly outnumbered them. Having no leader and noheadquarters, the officers marched the men to the hills above the cityand went into camp to await further developments.
Throughout the night they watched the illumination of the city and ofthe boats in the harbor below them; they saw the flames bursting fromthe homes of the members of Alvarez's Cabinet, and when the morningbroke they beheld the grounds of the Palace swarming with Mendoza'stroops, and the red and white barred flag of the revolution floatingover it. The news of the assassination of Alvarez and the fact thatRojas had been spared for fear of the people, had been carried to themearly in the evening, and with this knowledge of their General's safetyhope returned and fresh plans were discussed. By midnight they haddefinitely decided that should Mendoza attempt to dislodge them thenext morning, they would make a stand, but that if the fight wentagainst them, they would fall back along the mountain roads to theValencia mines, where they hoped to persuade the fifteen hundredsoldiers there installed to join forces with them against the newDictator.
In order to assure themselves of this help, a messenger was despatchedby a circuitous route to the Palms, to ask the aid of the residentdirector, and another was sent to the mines to work upon the feelingsof the soldiers themselves. The officer who had been sent to the Palmsto petition Clay for the loan of his soldier-workmen, had decided toremain until Clay returned, and another messenger had been sent afterhim from the camp on the same errand.
These two lieutenants greeted Clay with enthusiasm, but he at onceinterrupted them, and began plying them with questions as to wheretheir camp was situated and what roads led from it to the Palms.
"Bring your men at once to this end of our railroad," he said. "It isstill earl
y, and the revolutionists will sleep late. They are druggedwith liquor and worn out with excitement, and whatever may have beentheir intentions toward you last night, they will be late in puttingthem into practice this morning. I will telegraph Kirkland to come upat once with all of his soldiers and with his three hundred Irishmen.Allowing him a half-hour to collect them and to get his flat carstogether, and another half-hour in which to make the run, he should behere by half-past six--and that's quick mobilization. You ride back nowand march your men here at a double-quick. With your two thousand weshall have in all three thousand and eight hundred men. I must haveabsolute control over my own troops. Otherwise I shall actindependently of you and go into the city alone with my workmen."
"That is unnecessary," said one of the lieutenants. "We have noofficers. If you do not command us, there is no one else to do it. Wepromise that our men will follow you and give you every obedience.They have been led by foreigners before, by young Captain Stuart andMajor Fergurson and Colonel Shrevington. They know how highly GeneralRojas thinks of you, and they know that you have led Continental armiesin Europe."
"Well, don't tell them I haven't until this is over," said Clay. "Now,ride hard, gentlemen, and bring your men here as quickly as possible."
The lieutenants thanked him effusively and galloped away, radiant atthe success of their mission, and Clay entered the office whereMacWilliams was telegraphing his orders to Kirkland. He seated himselfbeside the instrument, and from time to time answered the questionsKirkland sent back to him over the wire, and in the intervals ofsilence thought of Hope. It was the first time he had gone into actionfeeling the touch of a woman's hand upon his sleeve, and he was fearfullest she might think he had considered her too lightly.
He took a piece of paper from the table and wrote a few lines upon it,and then rewrote them several times. The message he finally sent toher was this: "I am sure you understand, and that you would not haveme give up beaten now, when what we do to-day may set us right again.I know better than any one else in the world can know, what I run therisk of losing, but you would not have that fear stop me from going onwith what we have been struggling for so long. I cannot come back tosee you before we start, but I know your heart is with me. With greatlove, Robert Clay."
He gave the note to his servant, and the answer was brought to himalmost immediately. Hope had not rewritten her message: "I love youbecause you are the sort of man you are, and had you given up as fatherwished you to do, or on my account, you would have been some one else,and I would have had to begin over again to learn to love you for somedifferent reasons. I know that you will come back to me bringing yoursheaves with you. Nothing can happen to you now. Hope."
He had never received a line from her before, and he read and rereadthis with a sense of such pride and happiness in his face thatMacWilliams smiled covertly and bent his eyes upon his instrument.Clay went back into his room and kissed the page of paper gently,flushing like a boy as he did so, and then folding it carefully, he putit away beneath his jacket. He glanced about him guiltily, although hewas quite alone, and taking out his watch, pried it open and lookeddown into the face of the photograph that had smiled up at him from itfor so many years. He thought how unlike it was to Alice Langham as heknew her. He judged that it must have been taken when she was veryyoung, at the age Hope was then, before the little world she lived inhad crippled and narrowed her and marked her for its own. Heremembered what she had said to him the first night he had seen her."That is the picture of the girl who ceased to exist four years ago,and whom you have never met." He wondered if she had ever existed.
"It looks more like Hope than her sister," he mused. "It looks verymuch like Hope." He decided that he would let it remain where it wasuntil Hope gave him a better one; and smiling slightly he snapped thelid fast, as though he were closing a door on the face of Alice Langhamand locking it forever.
Kirkland was in the cab of the locomotive that brought the soldiersfrom the mine. He stopped the first car in front of the freightstation until the workmen had filed out and formed into a double lineon the platform. Then he moved the train forward the length of thatcar, and those in the one following were mustered out in a similarmanner. As the cars continued to come in, the men at the head of thedouble line passed on through the freight station and on up the road tothe city in an unbroken column. There was no confusion, no crowding,and no haste.
When the last car had been emptied, Clay rode down the line andappointed a foreman to take charge of each company, stationing hisengineers and the Irish-Americans in the van. It looked more like amob than a regiment. None of the men were in uniform, and the nativesoldiers were barefoot. But they showed a winning spirit, and stood inas orderly an array as though they were drawn up in line to receivetheir month's wages. The Americans in front of the column werehumorously disposed, and inclined to consider the whole affair as apleasant outing. They had been placed in front, not because they werebetter shots than the natives, but because every South American thinksthat every citizen of the United States is a master either of the rifleor the revolver, and Clay was counting on this superstition. Hisassistant engineers and foremen hailed him as he rode on up and downthe line with good-natured cheers, and asked him when they were to gettheir commissions, and if it were true that they were all captains, oronly colonels, as they were at home.
They had been waiting for a half-hour, when there was the sound ofhorses' hoofs on the road, and the even beat of men's feet, and theadvance guard of the Third and Fourth regiments came toward them at aquickstep. The men were still in the full-dress uniforms they had wornat the review the day before, and in comparison with thesoldier-workmen and the Americans in flannel shirts, they presented somartial a showing that they were welcomed with tumultuous cheers. Claythrew them into a double line on one side of the road, down the lengthof which his own marched until they had reached the end of it nearestto the city, when they took up their position in a close formation, andthe native regiments fell in behind them. Clay selected twenty of thebest shots from among the engineers and sent them on ahead as askirmish line. They were ordered to fall back at once if they saw anysign of the enemy. In this order the column of four thousand menstarted for the city.
It was a little after seven when they advanced, and the air was mildand peaceful. Men and women came crowding to the doors and windows ofthe huts as they passed, and stood watching them in silence, notknowing to which party the small army might belong. In order toenlighten them, Clay shouted, "Viva Rojas." And his men took it up,and the people answered gladly.
They had reached the closely built portion of the city when theskirmish line came running back to say that it had been met by adetachment of Mendoza's cavalry, who had galloped away as soon as theysaw them. There was then no longer any doubt that the fact of theircoming was known at the Palace, and Clay halted his men in a bare plazaand divided them into three columns. Three streets ran parallel withone another from this plaza to the heart of the city, and openeddirectly upon the garden of the Palace where Mendoza had fortifiedhimself. Clay directed the columns to advance up these streets,keeping the head of each column in touch with the other two. At theword they were to pour down the side streets and rally to each other'sassistance.
As they stood, drawn up on the three sides of the plaza, he rode outbefore them and held up his hat for silence. They were there with armsin their hands, he said, for two reasons: the greater one, and the onewhich he knew actuated the native soldiers, was their desire topreserve the Constitution of the Republic. According to their own laws,the Vice-President must succeed when the President's term of office hadexpired, or in the event of his death. President Alvarez had beenassassinated, and the Vice-President, General Rojas, was, inconsequence, his legal successor. It was their duty, as soldiers ofthe Republic, to rescue him from prison, to drive the man who hadusurped his place into exile, and by so doing uphold the laws whichthey had themselves laid down. The second motive, he went on,
was aless worthy and more selfish one. The Olancho mines, which now gavework to thousands and brought millions of dollars into the country,were coveted by Mendoza, who would, if he could, convert them into amonopoly of his government. If he remained in power all foreignerswould be driven out of the country, and the soldiers would be forced towork in the mines without payment. Their condition would be littlebetter than that of the slaves in the salt mines of Siberia. Not onlywould they no longer be paid for their labor, but the people as a wholewould cease to receive that share of the earnings of the mines whichhad hitherto been theirs.
"Under President Rojas you will have liberty, justice, and prosperity,"Clay cried. "Under Mendoza you will be ruled by martial law. He willrob and overtax you, and you will live through a reign of terror.Between them--which will you choose?"
The native soldiers answered by cries of "Rojas," and breaking ranksrushed across the plaza toward him, crowding around his horse andshouting, "Long live Rojas," "Long live the Constitution," "Death toMendoza." The Americans stood as they were and gave three cheers forthe Government.
They were still cheering and shouting as they advanced upon the Palace,and the noise of their coming drove the people indoors, so that theymarched through deserted streets and between closed doors and sightlesswindows. No one opposed them, and no one encouraged them. But theycould now see the facade of the Palace and the flag of theRevolutionists hanging from the mast in front of it.
Three blocks distant from the Palace they came upon the buildings ofthe United States and English Legations, where the flags of the twocountries had been hung out over the narrow thoroughfare.
The windows and the roofs of each legation were crowded with women andchildren who had sought refuge there, and the column halted as Weimer,the Consul, and Sir Julian Pindar, the English Minister, came out,bare-headed, into the street and beckoned to Clay to stop.
"As our Minister was not here," Weimer said, "I telegraphed to Truxillofor the man-of-war there. She started some time ago, and we have justheard that she is entering the lower harbor. She should have herblue-jackets on shore in twenty minutes. Sir Julian and I think youought to wait for them."
The English Minister put a detaining hand on Clay's bridle. "If youattack Mendoza at the Palace with this mob," he remonstrated, "riotingand lawlessness generally will break out all over the city. I ask youto keep them back until we get your sailors to police the streets andprotect property."
Clay glanced over his shoulder at the engineers and the Irish workmenstanding in solemn array behind him. "Oh, you can hardly call this amob," he said. "They look a little rough and ready, but I will answerfor them. The two other columns that are coming up the streetsparallel to this are Government troops and properly engaged in drivinga usurper out of the Government building. The best thing you can do isto get down to the wharf and send the marines and blue-jackets whereyou think they will do the most good. I can't wait for them. And theycan't come too soon."
The grounds of the Palace occupied two entire blocks; the BotanicalGardens were in the rear, and in front a series of low terraces randown from its veranda to the high iron fence which separated thegrounds from the chief thoroughfare of the city.
Clay sent word to the left and right wing of his little army to make adetour one street distant from the Palace grounds and form in thestreet in the rear of the Botanical Gardens. When they heard thefiring of his men from the front they were to force their way throughthe gates at the back and attack the Palace in the rear.
"Mendoza has the place completely barricaded," Weimer warned him, "andhe has three field pieces covering each of these streets. You and yourmen are directly in line of one of them now. He is only waiting foryou to get a little nearer before he lets loose."
From where he sat Clay could count the bars of the iron fence in frontof the grounds. But the boards that backed them prevented his formingany idea of the strength or the distribution of Mendoza's forces. Hedrew his staff of amateur officers to one side and explained thesituation to them.
"The Theatre National and the Club Union," he said, "face the Palacefrom the opposite corners of this street. You must get into them andbarricade the windows and throw up some sort of shelter for yourselvesalong the edge of the roofs and drive the men behind that fence back tothe Palace. Clear them away from the cannon first, and keep them awayfrom it. I will be waiting in the street below. When you have driventhem back, we will charge the gates and have it out with them in thegardens. The Third and Fourth regiments ought to take them in the rearabout the same time. You will continue to pick them off from the roof."
The two supporting columns had already started on their roundabout wayto the rear of the Palace. Clay gathered up his reins, and telling hismen to keep close to the walls, started forward, his soldiers followingon the sidewalks and leaving the middle of the street clear. As theyreached a point a hundred yards below the Palace, a part of the woodenshield behind the fence was thrown down, there was a puff of whitesmoke and a report, and a cannon-ball struck the roof of a house whichthey were passing and sent the tiles clattering about their heads. Butthe men in the lead had already reached the stage-door of the theatreand were opposite one of the doors to the club. They drove these inwith the butts of their rifles, and raced up the stairs of each of thedeserted buildings until they reached the roof. Langham was swept by aweight of men across a stage, and jumped among the music racks in theorchestra. He caught a glimpse of the early morning sun shining on thetawdry hangings of the boxes and the exaggerated perspective of thescenery. He ran through corridors between two great statues of Comedyand Tragedy, and up a marble stair case to a lobby in which he saw thewhite faces about him multiplied in long mirrors, and so out to an ironbalcony from which he looked down, panting and breathless, upon thePalace Gardens, swarming with soldiers and white with smoke. Menpoured through the windows of the club opposite, dragging sofas andchairs out to the balcony and upon the flat roof. The men near himwere tearing down the yellow silk curtains in the lobby and drapingthem along the railing of the balcony to better conceal their movementsfrom the enemy below. Bullets spattered the stucco about their heads,and panes of glass broke suddenly and fell in glittering particles upontheir shoulders. The firing had already begun from the roofs nearthem. Beyond the club and the theatre and far along the street on eachside of the Palace the merchants were slamming the iron shutters oftheir shops, and men and women were running for refuge up the highsteps of the church of Santa Maria. Others were gathered in blackmasses on the balconies and roofs of the more distant houses, wherethey stood outlined against the soft blue sky in gigantic silhouette.Their shouts of encouragement and anger carried clearly in the morningair, and spurred on the gladiators below to greater effort. In thePalace Gardens a line of Mendoza's men fought from behind the firstbarricade, while others dragged tables and bedding and chairs acrossthe green terraces and tumbled them down to those below, who seizedthem and formed them into a second line of defence.
Two of the assistant engineers were kneeling at Langham's feet with thebarrels of their rifles resting on the railing of the balcony. Theireyes had been trained for years to judge distances and to measurespace, and they glanced along the sights of their rifles as though theywere looking through the lens of a transit, and at each report theirfaces grew more earnest and their lips pressed tighter together. Oneof them lowered his gun to light a cigarette, and Langham handed himhis match-box, with a certain feeling of repugnance.
"Better get under cover, Mr. Langham," the man said, kindly. "There'sno use our keeping your mines for you if you're not alive to enjoythem. Take a shot at that crew around the gun."
"I don't like this long range business," Langham answered. "I am goingdown to join Clay. I don't like the idea of hitting a man when heisn't looking at you."
The engineer gave an incredulous laugh.
"If he isn't looking at you, he's aiming at the man next to you. 'Liveand let Live' doesn't apply at present."
>
As Langham reached Clay's side triumphant shouts arose from theroof-tops, and the men posted there stood up and showed themselvesabove the barricades and called to Clay that the cannon were deserted.
Kirkland had come prepared for the barricade, and, running across thestreet, fastened a dynamite cartridge to each gate post and lit thefuses. The soldiers scattered before him as he came leaping back, andin an instant later there was a racking roar, and the gates werepitched out of their sockets and thrown forward, and those in thestreet swept across them and surrounded the cannon.
Langham caught it by the throat as though it were human, and did notfeel the hot metal burning the palms of his hands as he choked it andpointed its muzzle toward the Palace, while the others dragged at thespokes of the wheel. It was fighting at close range now, close enoughto suit even Langham. He found himself in the front rank of it withoutknowing exactly how he got there. Every man on both sides was playinghis own hand, and seemed to know exactly what to do. He felt neglectedand very much alone, and was somewhat anxious lest his valor might bewasted through his not knowing how to put it to account. He saw theenemy in changing groups of scowling men, who seemed to eye him for aninstant down the length of a gun-barrel and then disappear behind apuff of smoke. He kept thinking that war made men take strangeliberties with their fellow-men, and it struck him as being most absurdthat strangers should stand up and try to kill one another, men who hadso little in common that they did not even know one another's names.The soldiers who were fighting on his own side were equally unknown tohim, and he looked in vain for Clay. He saw MacWilliams for a momentthrough the smoke, jabbing at a jammed cartridge with his pen-knife,and hacking the lead away to make it slip. He was remonstrating withthe gun and swearing at it exactly as though it were human, and asLangham ran toward him he threw it away and caught up another from theground. Kneeling beside the wounded man who had dropped it and pickingthe cartridges from his belt, he assured him cheerfully that he was notso badly hurt as he thought.
"You all right?" Langham asked.
"I'm all right. I'm trying to get a little laddie hiding behind thatblue silk sofa over there. He's taken an unnatural dislike to me, andhe's nearly got me three times. I'm knocking horse-hair out of hisrampart, though."
The men of Stuart's body-guard were fighting outside of the breastworksand mattresses. They were using their swords as though they weremachetes, and the Irishmen were swinging their guns around theirshoulders like sledge-hammers, and beating their foes over the head andbreast. The guns at his own side sounded close at Langham's ear, anddeafened him, and those of the enemy exploded so near to his face thathe was kept continually winking and dodging, as though he were beingtaken by a flashlight photograph. When he fired he aimed where themass was thickest, so that he might not see what his bullet did, but heremembered afterward that he always reloaded with the most anxiousswiftness in order that he might not be killed before he had hadanother shot, and that the idea of being killed was of no concern tohim except on that account. Then the scene before him changed, andapparently hundreds of Mendoza's soldiers poured out from the Palaceand swept down upon him, cheering as they came, and he felt himselffalling back naturally and as a matter of course, as he would havestepped out of the way of a locomotive, or a runaway horse, or anyother unreasoning thing. His shoulders pushed against a mass ofshouting, sweating men, who in turn pressed back upon others, until themass reached the iron fence and could move no farther. He heard Clay'svoice shouting to them, and saw him run forward, shooting rapidly as heran, and he followed him, even though his reason told him it was auseless thing to do, and then there came a great shout from the rear ofthe Palace, and more soldiers, dressed exactly like the others, rushedthrough the great doors and swarmed around the two wings of thebuilding, and he recognized them as Rojas's men and knew that the fightwas over.
He saw a tall man with a negro's face spring out of the first mass ofsoldiers and shout to them to follow him. Clay gave a yell of welcomeand ran at him, calling upon him in Spanish to surrender. The negrostopped and stood at bay, glaring at Clay and at the circle of soldiersclosing in around him. He raised his revolver and pointed it steadily.It was as though the man knew he had only a moment to live, and meantto do that one thing well in the short time left him.
Clay sprang to one side and ran toward him, dodging to the right andleft, but Mendoza followed his movements carefully with his revolver.
It lasted but an instant. Then the Spaniard threw his arm suddenlyacross his face, drove the heel of his boot into the turf, and spinningabout on it fell forward.
"If he was shot where his sash crosses his heart, I know the man whodid it," Langham heard a voice say at his elbow, and turning sawMacWilliams wetting his fingers at his lips and touching them gingerlyto the heated barrel of his Winchester.
The death of Mendoza left his followers without a leader and without acause. They threw their muskets on the ground and held their handsabove their heads, shrieking for mercy. Clay and his officers answeredthem instantly by running from one group to another, knocking up thebarrels of the rifles and calling hoarsely to the men on the roofs tocease firing, and as they were obeyed the noise of the last few randomshots was drowned in tumultuous cheering and shouts of exultation,that, starting in the gardens, were caught up by those in the streetsand passed on quickly as a line of flame along the swaying housetops.
The native officers sprang upon Clay and embraced him after theirfashion, hailing him as the Liberator of Olancho, as the Preserver ofthe Constitution, and their brother patriot. Then one of them climbedto the top of a gilt and marble table and proclaimed him militaryPresident.
"You'll proclaim yourself an idiot, if you don't get down from there,"Clay said, laughing. "I thank you for permitting me to serve with you,gentlemen. I shall have great pleasure in telling our President howwell you acquitted yourself in this row--battle, I mean. And now Iwould suggest that you store the prisoners' weapons in the Palace andput a guard over them, and then conduct the men themselves to themilitary prison, where you can release General Rojas and escort himback to the city in a triumphal procession. You'd like that, wouldn'tyou?"
But the natives protested that that honor was for him alone. Claydeclined it, pleading that he must look after his wounded.
"I can hardly believe there are any dead," he said to Kirkland.
"For, if it takes two thousand bullets to kill a man in Europeanwarfare, it must require about two hundred thousand to kill a man inSouth America."
He told Kirkland to march his men back to the mines and to see thatthere were no stragglers. "If they want to celebrate, let themcelebrate when they get to the mines, but not here. They have made agood record to-day and I won't have it spoiled by rioting. They shallhave their reward later. Between Rojas and Mr. Langham they should allbe rich men."
The cheering from the housetops since the firing ceased had changedsuddenly into hand-clappings, and the cries, though stillundistinguishable, were of a different sound. Clay saw that theAmericans on the balconies of the club and of the theatre had thrownthemselves far over the railings and were all looking in the samedirection and waving their hats and cheering loudly, and he heard abovethe shouts of the people the regular tramp of men's feet marching instep, and the rattle of a machine gun as it bumped and shook over therough stones. He gave a shout of pleasure, and Kirkland and the twoboys ran with him up the slope, crowding each other to get a betterview. The mob parted at the Palace gates, and they saw two lines ofblue-jackets, spread out like the sticks of a fan, dragging the gunbetween them, the middies in their tight-buttoned tunics and gaiters,and behind them more blue-jackets with bare, bronzed throats, and withthe swagger and roll of the sea in their legs and shoulders. AnAmerican flag floated above the white helmets of the marines. Itspresence and the sense of pride which the sight of these men from homeawoke in them made the fight just over seem mean and petty, and theytook off their hats and cheered with the others.
A first lieutenant, who felt his importance and also a sense ofdisappointment at having arrived too late to see the fighting, left hismen at the gate of the Palace, and advanced up the terrace, stopping toask for information as he came. Each group to which he addressedhimself pointed to Clay. The sight of his own flag had reminded Claythat the banner of Mendoza still hung from the mast beside which he wasstanding, and as the officer approached he was busily engaged inuntwisting its halyards and pulling it down.
The lieutenant saluted him doubtfully.
"Can you tell me who is in command here?" he asked. He spoke somewhatsharply, for Clay was not a military looking personage, covered as hewas with dust and perspiration, and with his sombrero on the back ofhis head.
"Our Consul here told us at the landing-place," continued thelieutenant in an aggrieved tone, "that a General Mendoza was in power,and that I had better report to him, and then ten minutes later I hearthat he is dead and that a General Rojas is President, but that a mannamed Clay has made himself Dictator. My instructions are to recognizeno belligerents, but to report to the Government party. Now, who isthe Government party?"
Clay brought the red-barred flag down with a jerk, and ripped it freefrom the halyards. Kirkland and the two boys were watching him withamused smiles.
"I appreciate your difficulty," he said. "President Alvarez is dead,and General Mendoza, who tried to make himself Dictator, is also dead,and the real President, General Rojas, is still in jail. So at presentI suppose that I represent the Government party, at least I am the mannamed Clay. It hadn't occurred to me before, but, until Rojas is free,I guess I am the Dictator of Olancho. Is Madame Alvarez on board yourship?"
"Yes, she is with us," the officer replied, in some confusion. "Excuseme--are you the three gentlemen who took her to the yacht? I am afraidI spoke rather hastily just now, but you are not in uniform, and theGovernment seems to change so quickly down here that a stranger findsit hard to keep up with it."
Six of the native officers had approached as the lieutenant wasspeaking and saluted Clay gravely. "We have followed yourinstructions," one of them said, "and the regiments are ready to marchwith the prisoners. Have you any further orders for us--can we deliverany messages to General Rojas?"
"Present my congratulations to General Rojas, and best wishes," saidClay. "And tell him for me, that it would please me greatly if hewould liberate an American citizen named Burke, who is at present inthe cuartel. And that I wish him to promote all of you gentlemen onegrade and give each of you the Star of Olancho. Tell him that in myopinion you have deserved even higher reward and honor at his hands."
The boy-lieutenants broke out into a chorus of delighted thanks. Theyassured Clay that he was most gracious; that he overwhelmed them, andthat it was honor enough for them that they had served under him. ButClay laughed, and drove them off with a paternal wave of the hand.
The officer from the man-of-war listened with an uncomfortable sense ofhaving blundered in his manner toward this powder-splashed young manwho set American citizens at liberty, and created captains by thehalf-dozen at a time.
"Are you from the States?" he asked as they moved toward theman-of-war's men.
"I am, thank God. Why not?"
"I thought you were, but you saluted like an Englishman."
"I was an officer in the English army once in the Soudan, when theywere short of officers." Clay shook his head and looked wistfully atthe ranks of the blue-jackets drawn up on either side of them. Thehorses had been brought out and Langham and MacWilliams were waitingfor him to mount. "I have worn several uniforms since I was a boy,"said Clay. "But never that of my own country."
The people were cheering him from every part of the square. Women wavedtheir hands from balconies and housetops, and men climbed to awningsand lampposts and shouted his name. The officers and men of thelanding party took note of him and of this reception out of the cornerof their eyes, and wondered.
"And what had I better do?" asked the commanding officer.
"Oh, I would police the Palace grounds, if I were you, and picket thatstreet at the right, where there are so many wine shops, and preserveorder generally until Rojas gets here. He won't be more than an hour,now. We shall be coming over to pay our respects to your captainto-morrow. Glad to have met you."
"Well, I'm glad to have met you," answered the officer, heartily."Hold on a minute. Even if you haven't worn our uniform, you're asgood, and better, than some I've seen that have, and you're a sort of acommander-in-chief, anyway, and I'm damned if I don't give you a sortof salute."
Clay laughed like a boy as he swung himself into the saddle. Theofficer stepped back and gave the command; the middies raised theirswords and Clay passed between massed rows of his countrymen with theirmuskets held rigidly toward him. The housetops rocked again at thesight, and as he rode out into the brilliant sunshine, his eyes werewet and winking.
The two boys had drawn up at his side, but MacWilliams had turned inthe saddle and was still looking toward the Palace, with his handresting on the hindquarters of his pony.
"Look back, Clay," he said. "Take a last look at it, you'll never seeit after to-day. Turn again, turn again, Dictator of Olancho."
The men laughed and drew rein as he bade them, and looked back up thenarrow street. They saw the green and white flag of Olancho creepingto the top of the mast before the Palace, the blue-jackets driving backthe crowd, the gashes in the walls of the houses, where Mendoza'scannonballs had dug their way through the stucco, and the silkcurtains, riddled with bullets, flapping from the balconies of theopera-house.
"You had it all your own way an hour ago," MacWilliams said, mockingly."You could have sent Rojas into exile, and made us all CabinetMinisters--and you gave it up for a girl. Now, you're Dictator ofOlancho. What will you be to-morrow? To-morrow you will be AndrewLangham's son-in-law--Benedict, the married man. Andrew Langham'sson-in-law cannot ask his wife to live in such a hole as this,so--Goodbye, Mr. Clay. We have been long together."
Clay and Langham looked curiously at the boy to see if he were inearnest, but MacWilliams would not meet their eyes.
"There were three of us," he said, "and one got shot, and one gotmarried, and the third--? You will grow fat, Clay, and live on FifthAvenue and wear a high silk hat, and some day when you're sitting inyour club you'll read a paragraph in a newspaper with a queer Spanishdate-line to it, and this will all come back to you,--this heat, andthe palms, and the fever, and the days when you lived on plantains andwe watched our trestles grow out across the canons, and you'll bewilling to give your hand to sleep in a hammock again, and to feel thesweat running down your back, and you'll want to chuck your gun upagainst your chin and shoot into a line of men, and the policemen won'tlet you, and your wife won't let you. That's what you're giving up.There it is. Take a good look at it. You'll never see it again."