XXIV. The Ride
"Stillwell!"
Madeline's cry was more than the utterance of a breaking heart. It wasfull of agony. But also it uttered the shattering of a structure builtof false pride, of old beliefs, of bloodless standards, of ignoranceof self. It betrayed the final conquest of her doubts, and out oftheir darkness blazed the unquenchable spirit of a woman who had foundherself, her love, her salvation, her duty to a man, and who would notbe cheated.
The old cattleman stood mute before her, staring at her white face, ather eyes of flame.
"Stillwell! I am Stewart's wife!"
"My Gawd, Miss Majesty!" he burst out. "I knowed somethin' turrible waswrong. Aw, sure it's a pity--"
"Do you think I'll let him be shot when I know him now, when I'm nolonger blind, when I love him?" she asked, with passionate swiftness."I will save him. This is Wednesday morning. I have thirty-six hours tosave his life. Stillwell, send for Link and the car!"
She went into her office. Her mind worked with extraordinary rapidityand clearness. Her plan, born in one lightning-like flash of thought,necessitated the careful wording of telegrams to Washington, to NewYork, to San Antonio. These were to Senators, Representatives, men highin public and private life, men who would remember her and who wouldserve her to their utmost. Never before had her position meant anythingto her comparable with what it meant now. Never in all her life hadmoney seemed the power that it was then. If she had been poor! Ashuddering chill froze the thought at its inception. She dispelledheartbreaking thoughts. She had power. She had wealth. She would setinto operation all the unlimited means these gave her--the wiresand pulleys and strings underneath the surface of political andinternational life, the open, free, purchasing value of money or thedeep, underground, mysterious, incalculably powerful influence movedby gold. She could save Stewart. She must await results--deadlocked infeeling, strained perhaps almost beyond endurance, because the suspensewould be great; but she would allow no possibility of failure to enterher mind.
When she went outside the car was there with Link, helmet in hand, acool, bright gleam in his eyes, and with Stillwell, losing his haggardmisery, beginning to respond to Madeline's spirit.
"Link, drive Stillwell to El Cajon in time for him to catch the El Pasotrain," she said. "Wait there for his return, and if any message comesfrom him, telephone it at once to me."
Then she gave Stillwell the telegrams to send from El Cajon and draftsto cash in El Paso. She instructed him to go before the rebel junta,then stationed at Juarez, to explain the situation, to bid them expectcommunications from Washington officials requesting and advisingStewart's exchange as a prisoner of war, to offer to buy his releasefrom the rebel authorities.
When Stillwell had heard her through his huge, bowed form straightened,a ghost of his old smile just moved his lips. He was no longer young,and hope could not at once drive away stern and grim realities. As hebent over her hand his manner appeared courtly and reverent. But eitherhe was speechless or felt the moment not one for him to break silence.
He climbed to a seat beside Link, who pocketed the watch he had beenstudying and leaned over the wheel. There was a crack, a muffled soundbursting into a roar, and the big car jerked forward to bound over theedge of the slope, to leap down the long incline, to shoot out upon thelevel valley floor and disappear in moving dust.
For the first time in days Madeline visited the gardens, the corrals,the lakes, the quarters of the cowboys. Though imagining she was calm,she feared she looked strange to Nels, to Nick, to Frankie Slade, tothose boys best known to her. The situation for them must have been oneof tormenting pain and bewilderment. They acted as if they wanted tosay something to her, but found themselves spellbound. She wondered--didthey know she was Stewart's wife? Stillwell had not had time to tellthem; besides, he would not have mentioned the fact. These cowboys onlyknew that Stewart was sentenced to be shot; they knew if Madeline hadnot been angry with him he would not have gone in desperate fightingmood across the border. She spoke of the weather, of the horses andcattle, asked Nels when he was to go on duty, and turned away from thewide, sunlit, adobe-arched porch where the cowboys stood silent andbareheaded. Then one of her subtle impulses checked her.
"Nels, you and Nick need not go on duty to-day," she said. "I may wantyou. I--I--"
She hesitated, paused, and stood lingering there. Her glance had fallenupon Stewart's big black horse prancing in a near-by corral.
"I have sent Stillwell to El Paso," she went on, in a low voice shefailed to hold steady. "He will save Stewart. I have to tell you--I amStewart's wife!"
She felt the stricken amaze that made these men silent and immovable.With level gaze averted she left them. Returning to the house and herroom, she prepared for something--for what? To wait!
Then a great invisible shadow seemed to hover behind her. She essayedmany tasks, to fail of attention, to find that her mind held onlyStewart and his fortunes. Why had he become a Federal? She reflectedthat he had won his title, El Capitan, fighting for Madero, the rebel.But Madero was now a Federal, and Stewart was true to him. In crossingthe border had Stewart any other motive than the one he had implied toMadeline in his mocking smile and scornful words, "You might have savedme a hell of a lot of trouble!" What trouble? She felt again the coldshock of contact with the gun she had dropped in horror. He meant thetrouble of getting himself shot in the only way a man could seek deathwithout cowardice. But had he any other motive? She recalled Don Carlosand his guerrillas. Then the thought leaped up in her mind with grippingpower that Stewart meant to hunt Don Carlos, to meet him, to kill him.It would be the deed of a silent, vengeful, implacable man driven bywild justice such as had been the deadly leaven in Monty Price. It wasa deed to expect of Nels or Nick Steel--and, aye, of Gene Stewart.Madeline felt regret that Stewart, as he had climbed so high, had notrisen above deliberate seeking to kill his enemy, however evil thatenemy.
The local newspapers, which came regularly a day late from El Pasoand Douglas, had never won any particular interest from Madeline;now, however, she took up any copies she could find and read all theinformation pertaining to the revolution. Every word seemed vital toher, of moving significant force.
AMERICANS ROBBED BY MEXICAN REBELS
MADERA, STATE OF CHIHUAHUA, MEXICO, July 17.--Having looted the MaderaLumber Company's storehouses of $25,000 worth of goods and robbed scoresof foreigners of horses and saddles, the rebel command of Gen. AntonioRojas, comprising a thousand men, started westward to-day through thestate of Sonora for Agnaymas and Pacific coast points.
The troops are headed for Dolores, where a mountain pass leads intothe state of Sonora. Their entrance will be opposed by 1,000 Maderistavolunteers, who are reported to be waiting the rebel invasion.
The railroad south of Madera is being destroyed and many Americans whowere traveling to Chihuahua from Juarez are marooned here.
General Rojas executed five men while here for alleged offenses of atrivial character. Gen. Rosalio y Hernandez, Lieut. Cipriano Amador, andthree soldiers were the unfortunates.
WASHINGTON, July 17.--Somewhere in Mexico Patrick Dunne, an Americancitizen, is in prison under sentence of death. This much and no morethe State Department learned through Representative Kinkaid of Nebraska.Consular officers in various sections of Mexico have been directed tomake every effort to locate Dunne and save his life.
JUAREZ, MEXICO, July 31.--General Orozco, chief of the rebels, declaredto-day:
"If the United States will throw down the barriers and let us haveall the ammunition we can buy, I promise in sixty days to have peacerestored in Mexico and a stable government in charge."
CASAS GRANDES, CHIHUAHUA, July 31.--Rebel soldiers looted many homesof Mormons near here yesterday. All the Mormon families have fled toEl Paso. Although General Salazar had two of his soldiers executedyesterday for robbing Mormons, he has not made any attempt to stop hismen looting the unprotected homes of Americans.
Last night's and to-day's trains carried many A
mericans from Pearson,Madera, and other localities outside the Mormon settlements. Refugeesfrom Mexico continued to pour into El Paso. About one hundred came lastnight, the majority of whom were men. Heretofore few men came.
Madeline read on in feverish absorption. It was not a real war, but astarving, robbing, burning, hopeless revolution. Five men executed foralleged offenses of a trivial nature! What chance had, then, a Federalprisoner, an enemy to be feared, an American cowboy in the clutches ofthose crazed rebels?
Madeline endured patiently, endured for long interminable hours whileholding to her hope with indomitable will.
No message came. At sunset she went outdoors, suffering a tormentof accumulating suspense. She faced the desert, hoping, praying forstrength. The desert did not influence her as did the passionless,unchangeable stars that had soothed her spirit. It was red, mutable,shrouded in shadows, terrible like her mood. A dust-veiled sunsetcolored the vast, brooding, naked waste of rock and sand. The grimChiricahua frowned black and sinister. The dim blue domes of theGuadalupes seemed to whisper, to beckon to her. Beyond them somewherewas Stewart, awaiting the end of a few brief hours--hours that to herwere boundless, endless, insupportable.
Night fell. But now the white, pitiless stars failed her. Then shesought the seclusion and darkness of her room, there to lie with wideeyes, waiting, waiting. She had always been susceptible to the somber,mystic unrealities of the night, and now her mind slowly revolved rounda vague and monstrous gloom. Nevertheless, she was acutely sensitive tooutside impressions. She heard the measured tread of a guard, the rustleof wind stirring the window-curtain, the remote, mournful wail of acoyote. By and by the dead silence of the night insulated her withleaden oppression. There was silent darkness for so long that when thewindow casements showed gray she believed it was only fancy and thatdawn would never come. She prayed for the sun not to rise, not to beginits short twelve-hour journey toward what might be a fatal setting forStewart. But the dawn did lighten, swiftly she thought, remorselessly.Daylight had broken, and this was Thursday!
Sharp ringing of the telephone bell startled her, roused her intoaction. She ran to answer the call.
"Hello--hello--Miss Majesty!" came the hurried reply. "This is Linktalkin'. Messages for you. Favorable, the operator said. I'm to ride outwith them. I'll come a-hummin'."
That was all. Madeline heard the bang of the receiver as Stevens threwit down. She passionately wanted to know more, but was immeasurablygrateful for so much! Favorable! Then Stillwell had been successful.Her heart leaped. Suddenly she became weak and her hands failed of theiraccustomed morning deftness. It took her what seemed a thousand years todress. Breakfast meant nothing to her except that it helped her to passdragging minutes.
Finally a low hum, mounting swiftly to a roar and ending with a sharpreport, announced the arrival of the car. If her feet had kept pace withher heart she would have raced out to meet Link. She saw him, helmetthrown back, watch in hand, and he looked up at her with his cool,bright smile, with his familiar apologetic manner.
"Fifty-three minutes, Miss Majesty," he said, "but I hed to ride round aherd of steers an' bump a couple off the trail."
He gave her a packet of telegrams. Madeline tore them open with shakingfingers, began to read with swift, dim eyes. Some were from Washington,assuring her of every possible service; some were from New York; otherswritten in Spanish were from El Paso, and these she could not whollytranslate in a brief glance. Would she never find Stillwell's message?It was the last. It was lengthy. It read:
Bought Stewart's release. Also arranged for his transfer as prisonerof war. Both matters official. He's safe if we can get notice to hiscaptors. Not sure I've reached them by wire. Afraid to trust it. You gowith Link to Agua Prieta. Take the messages sent you in Spanish. Theywill protect you and secure Stewart's freedom. Take Nels with you. Stopfor nothing. Tell Link all--trust him--let him drive that car.
STILLWELL.
*****
The first few lines of Stillwell's message lifted Madeline to theheights of thanksgiving and happiness. Then, reading on, she experienceda check, a numb, icy, sickening pang. At the last line she flung offdoubt and dread, and in white, cold passion faced the issue.
"Read," she said, briefly, handing the telegram to Link. He scanned itand then looked blankly up at her.
"Link, do you know the roads, the trails--the desert between here andAgua Prieta?" she asked.
"Thet's sure my old stampin'-ground. An' I know Sonora, too."
"We must reach Agua Prieta before sunset--long before, so if Stewart isin some near-by camp we can get to it in--in time."
"Miss Majesty, it ain't possible!" he exclaimed. "Stillwell's crazy tosay thet."
"Link, can an automobile be driven from here into northern Mexico?"
"Sure. But it 'd take time."
"We must do it in little time," she went on, in swift eagerness."Otherwise Stewart may be--probably will be--be shot."
Link Stevens appeared suddenly to grow lax, shriveled, to lose all hispeculiar pert brightness, to weaken and age.
"I'm only a--a cowboy, Miss Majesty." He almost faltered. It was asingular change in him. "Thet's an awful ride--down over the border. Ifby some luck I didn't smash the car I'd turn your hair gray. You'd neverbe no good after thet ride!"
"I am Stewart's wife," she answered him and she looked at him, notconscious of any motive to persuade or allure, but just to let him knowthe greatness of her dependence upon him.
He started violently--the old action of Stewart, the memorable action ofMonty Price. This man was of the same wild breed.
Then Madeline's words flowed in a torrent. "I am Stewart's wife. I lovehim; I have been unjust to him; I must save him. Link, I have faith inyou. I beseech you to do your best for Stewart's sake--for my sake. I'llrisk the ride gladly--bravely. I'll not care where or how you drive. I'dfar rather plunge into a canyon--go to my death on the rocks--than nottry to save Stewart."
How beautiful the response of this rude cowboy--to realize his absoluteunconsciousness of self, to see the haggard shade burn out of his face,the old, cool, devil-may-care spirit return to his eyes, and to feelsomething wonderful about him then! It was more than will or daring orsacrifice. A blood-tie might have existed between him and Madeline. Shesensed again that indefinable brother-like quality, so fine, so almostinvisible, which seemed to be an inalienable trait in these wildcowboys.
"Miss Majesty, thet ride figgers impossible, but I'll do it!" hereplied. His cool, bright glance thrilled her. "I'll need mebbe half anhour to go over the car an' to pack on what I'll want."
She could not thank him, and her reply was merely a request that he tellNels and other cowboys off duty to come up to the house. When Link hadgone Madeline gave a moment's thought to preparations for the ride. Sheplaced what money she had and the telegrams in a satchel. The gown shehad on was thin and white, not suitable for travel, but she would notrisk the losing of one moment in changing it. She put on a long coatand wound veils round her head and neck, arranging them in a hood soshe could cover her face when necessary. She remembered to take an extrapair of goggles for Nels's use, and then, drawing on her gloves, shewent out ready for the ride.
A number of cowboys were waiting. She explained the situation and leftthem in charge of her home. With that she asked Nels to accompany herdown into the desert. He turned white to his lips, and this occasionedMadeline to remember his mortal dread of the car and Link's driving.
"Nels, I'm sorry to ask you," she added. "I know you hate the car. But Ineed you--may need you, oh! so much."
"Why, Miss Majesty, thet's shore all a mistaken idee of yours about mehatin' the car," he said, in his slow, soft drawl. "I was only jealousof Link; an' the boys, they made thet joke up on me about bein' scaredof ridin' fast. Shore I'm powerful proud to go. An' I reckon if youhedn't asked me my feelin's might hev been some hurt. Because if you'regoin' down among the Greasers you want me."
His cool, easy speech, his familiar swagger,
the smile with which heregarded her did not in the least deceive Madeline. The gray was stillin his face. Incomprehensible as it seemed, Nels had a dread, an uncannyfear, and it was of that huge white automobile. But he lied about it.Here again was that strange quality of faithfulness.
Madeline heard the buzz of the car. Link appeared driving up the slope.He made a short, sliding turn and stopped before the porch. Link hadtied two long, heavy planks upon the car, one on each side, and in everyavailable space he had strapped extra tires. A huge cask occupied oneback seat, and another seat was full of tools and ropes. There wasjust room in this rear part of the car for Nels to squeeze in. Link putMadeline in front beside him, then bent over the wheel. Madeline wavedher hand at the silent cowboys on the porch. Not an audible good-by wasspoken.
The car glided out of the yard, leaped from level to slope, and startedswiftly down the road, out into the open valley. Each stronger rush ofdry wind in Madeline's face marked the increase of speed. She took oneglance at the winding cattle-road, smooth, unobstructed, disappearingin the gray of distance. She took another at the leather-garbed,leather-helmeted driver beside her, and then she drew the hood of veilsover her face and fastened it round her neck so there was no possibilityof its blowing loose.
Harder and stronger pressed the wind till it was like sheetedlead forcing her back in her seat. There was a ceaseless, intense,inconceivably rapid vibration under her; occasionally she felt a longswing, as if she were to be propelled aloft; but no jars disturbed theeasy celerity of the car. The buzz, the roar of wheels, of heavy bodyin flight, increased to a continuous droning hum. The wind became aninsupportable body moving toward her, crushing her breast, making thetask of breathing most difficult. To Madeline the time seemed tofly with the speed of miles. A moment came when she detected a faintdifference in hum and rush and vibration, in the ceaseless sweeping ofthe invisible weight against her. This difference became marked. Linkwas reducing speed. Then came swift change of all sensation, and sherealized the car had slowed to normal travel.
Madeline removed her hood and goggles. It was a relief to breathefreely, to be able to use her eyes. To her right, not far distant, laythe little town of Chiricahua. Sight of it made her remember Stewart ina way strange to her constant thought of him. To the left inclined thegray valley. The red desert was hidden from view, but the GuadalupeMountains loomed close in the southwest.
Opposite Chiricahua, where the road forked, Link Stevens headed the carstraight south and gradually increased speed. Madeline faced anotherendless gray incline. It was the San Bernardino Valley. The singing ofthe car, the stinging of the wind warned her to draw the hood securelydown over her face again, and then it was as if she was riding at night.The car lurched ahead, settled into that driving speed which wedgedMadeline back as in a vise. Again the moments went by fleet as themiles. Seemingly, there was an acceleration of the car till it reached acertain swiftness--a period of time in which it held that pace, and thena diminishing of all motion and sound which contributed to Madeline'sacute sensation. Uncovering her face, she saw Link was passing anothervillage. Could it be Bernardino? She asked Link--repeated the question.
"Sure," he replied. "Eighty miles."
Link did not this time apologize for the work of his machine. Madelinemarked the omission with her first thrill of the ride. Leaning over, sheglanced at Link's watch, which he had fastened upon the wheel in frontof his eyes. A quarter to ten! Link had indeed made short work of thevalley miles.
Beyond Bernardino Link sheered off the road and put the car to a long,low-rising slope. Here the valley appeared to run south under the darkbrows of the Guadalupes. Link was heading southwest. Madeline observedthat the grass began to fail as they climbed the ridge; bare, white,dusty spots appeared; there were patches of mesquite and cactus andscattering areas of broken rock.
She might have been prepared for what she saw from the ridge-top.Beneath them the desert blazed. Seen from afar, it was striking enough,but riding down into its red jaws gave Madeline the first affront to herimperious confidence. All about her ranch had been desert, the valleyswere desert; but this was different. Here began the red desert,extending far into Mexico, far across Arizona and California to thePacific. She saw a bare, hummocky ridge, down which the car wasgliding, bounding, swinging, and this long slant seemed to merge into acorrugated world of rock and sand, patched by flats and basins, streakedwith canyons and ranges of ragged, saw-toothed stone. The distant SierraMadres were clearer, bluer, less smoky and suggestive of mirage than shehad ever seen them. Madeline's sustaining faith upheld her in theface of this appalling obstacle. Then the desert that had rolled itsimmensity beneath her gradually began to rise, to lose its distantmargins, to condense its varying lights and shades, at last to hide itsyawning depths and looming heights behind red ridges, which were onlylittle steps, little outposts, little landmarks at its gates.
The bouncing of the huge car, throwing Madeline up, directed herattention and fastened it upon the way Link Stevens was driving and uponthe immediate foreground. Then she discovered that he was following anold wagon-road. At the foot of that long slope they struck into rougherground, and here Link took to a cautious zigzag course. The wagon-roaddisappeared and then presently reappeared. But Link did not always holdto it. He made cuts, detours, crosses, and all the time seemed to begetting deeper into a maze of low, red dunes, of flat canyon-beds linedby banks of gravel, of ridges mounting higher. Yet Link Stevens kept onand never turned back. He never headed into a place that he could notpass. Up to this point of travel he had not been compelled to back thecar, and Madeline began to realize that it was the cowboy's wonderfuljudgment of ground that made advance possible. He knew the country;he was never at a loss; after making a choice of direction, he neverhesitated.
Then at the bottom of a wide canyon he entered a wash where the wheelsjust barely turned in dragging sand. The sun beat down white-hot, thedust arose, there was not a breath of wind; and no sound save theslide of a rock now and then down the weathered slopes and the laboredchugging of the machine. The snail pace, like the sand at the wheels,began to drag at Madeline's faith. Link gave over the wheel to Madeline,and, leaping out, he called Nels. When they untied the long planks andlaid them straight in front for the wheels to pass over Madeline sawhow wise had been Link's forethought. With the aid of those planks theyworked the car through sand and gravel otherwise impossible to pass.
This canyon widened and opened into space affording an unobstructed viewfor miles. The desert sloped up in steps, and in the morning light, withthe sun bright on the mesas and escarpments, it was gray, drab, stone,slate, yellow, pink, and, dominating all, a dull rust-red. There waslevel ground ahead, a wind-swept floor as hard as rock. Link rushed thecar over this free distance. Madeline's ears filled with a droning humlike the sound of a monstrous, hungry bee and with a strange, incessantcrinkle which she at length guessed to be the spreading of sheets ofgravel from under the wheels. The giant car attained such a speed thatMadeline could only distinguish the colored landmarks to the fore, andthese faded as the wind stung her eyes.
Then Link began the ascent of the first step, a long, sweeping, barrenwaste with dunes of wonderful violet and heliotrope hues. Here werewell-defined marks of an old wagon-road lately traversed by cattle. Thecar climbed steadily, surmounted the height, faced another long benchthat had been cleaned smooth by desert winds. The sky was an intense,light, steely blue, hard on the eyes. Madeline veiled her face, and didnot uncover it until Link had reduced the racing speed. From the summitof the next ridge she saw more red ruin of desert.
A deep wash crossing the road caused Link Stevens to turn due south.There was a narrow space along the wash just wide enough for thecar. Link seemed oblivious to the fact that the outside wheels wereperilously close to the edge. Madeline heard the rattle of loosenedgravel and earth sliding into the gully. The wash widened and opened outinto a sandy flat. Link crossed this and turned up on the opposite side.Rocks impeded the progress of the car, and these had to be
rolled outof the way. The shelves of silt, apparently ready to slide with theslightest weight, the little tributary washes, the boulder-strewnstretches of slope, the narrow spaces allowing no more than a foot forthe outside wheels, the spear-pointed cactus that had to be avoided--allthese obstacles were as nothing to the cowboy driver. He kept on, andwhen he came to the road again he made up for the lost time by speed.
Another height was reached, and here Madeline fancied that Link haddriven the car to the summit of a high pass between two mountain ranges.The western slope of that pass appeared to be exceedingly rough andbroken. Below it spread out another gray valley, at the extreme end ofwhich glistened a white spot that Link grimly called Douglas. Partof that white spot was Agua Prieta, the sister town across the line.Madeline looked with eyes that would fain have pierced the interveningdistance.
The descent of the pass began under difficulties. Sharp stones andcactus spikes penetrated the front tires, bursting them with rippingreports. It took time to replace them. The planks were called intorequisition to cross soft places. A jagged point of projecting rock hadto be broken with a sledge. At length a huge stone appeared to hinderany further advance. Madeline caught her breath. There was no room toturn the car. But Link Stevens had no intention of such a thing. Hebacked the car to a considerable distance, then walked forward. Heappeared to be busy around the boulder for a moment and returned downthe road on the run. A heavy explosion, a cloud of dust, and a rattle offalling fragments told Madeline that her indomitable driver had cleareda passage with dynamite. He seemed to be prepared for every emergency.Madeline looked to see what effect the discovery of Link carryingdynamite would have upon the silent Nels.
"Shore, now, Miss Majesty, there ain't nothin' goin' to stop Link," saidNels, with a reassuring smile. The significance of the incident hadnot dawned upon Nels, or else he was heedless of it. After all, he wasafraid only of the car and Link, and that fear was an idiosyncrasy.Madeline began to see her cowboy driver with clearer eyes and his spiritawoke something in her that made danger of no moment. Nels likewisesubtly responded, and, though he was gray-faced, tight-lipped, his eyestook on the cool, bright gleam of Link's.
Cactus barred the way, rocks barred the way, gullies barred the way, andthese Nels addressed in the grim humor with which he was wont to viewtragic things. A mistake on Link's part, a slip of a wheel, a burstingof a tire at a critical moment, an instant of the bad luck which mighthappen a hundred times on a less perilous ride--any one of these mightspell disaster for the car, perhaps death to the occupants. Again andagain Link used the planks to cross washes in sand. Sometimes the wheelsran all the length of the planks, sometimes slipped off. PresentlyLink came to a ditch where water had worn deep into the road. Withouthesitation he placed them, measuring distance carefully, and thenstarted across. The danger was in ditching the machine. One of theplanks split, sagged a little, but Link made the crossing without aslip.
The road led round under an overhanging cliff and was narrow, rocky, andslightly downhill. Bidding Madeline and Nels walk round this hazardouscorner, Link drove the car. Madeline expected to hear it crash downinto the canyon, but presently she saw Link waiting to take them aboardagain. Then came steeper parts of the road, places that Link could rundown if he had space below to control the car, and on the other handplaces where the little inclines ended in abrupt ledges upon one sideor a declivity upon the other. Here the cowboy, with ropes on the wheelsand half-hitches upon the spurs of rock, let the car slide down.
Once at a particularly bad spot Madeline exclaimed involuntarily,"Oh, time is flying!" Link Stevens looked up at her as if he had beenreproved for his care. His eyes shone like the glint of steel onice. Perhaps that utterance of Madeline's was needed to liberate hisrecklessness to its utmost. Certainly he put the car to seeminglyimpossible feats. He rimmed gullies, he hurdled rising ground, he leapedlittle breaks in the even road. He made his machine cling like a goatto steep inclines; he rounded corners with the inside wheels higherthan the outside; he passed over banks of soft earth that caved in theinstant he crossed weak places. He kept on and on, threading tortuouspassages through rock-strewn patches, keeping to the old road where itwas clear, abandoning it for open spaces, and always going down.
At length a mile of clean, brown slope, ridged and grooved like awashboard, led gently down to meet the floor of the valley, where thescant grama-grass struggled to give a tinge of gray. The road appearedto become more clearly defined, and could be seen striking straightacross the valley.
To Madeline's dismay, that road led down to a deep, narrow wash. Itplunged on one side, ascended on the other at a still steeper angle. Thecrossing would have been laborsome for a horse; for an automobile it wasunpassable. Link turned the car to the right along the rim and drove asfar along the wash as the ground permitted. The gully widened, deepenedall the way. Then he took the other direction. When he made this turnMadeline observed that the sun had perceptibly begun its slant westward.It shone in her face, glaring and wrathful. Link drove back to the road,crossed it, and kept on down the line of the wash. It was a deep cut inred earth, worn straight down by swift water in the rainy seasons. Itnarrowed. In some places it was only five feet wide. Link studied thesepoints and looked up the slope, and seemed to be making deductions. Thevalley was level now, and there were nothing but little breaks in therim of the wash. Link drove mile after mile, looking for a place tocross, and there was none. Finally progress to the south was obstructedby impassable gullies where the wash plunged into the head of a canyon.It was necessary to back the car a distance before there was room toturn. Madeline looked at the imperturbable driver. His face revealed nomore than the same old hard, immutable character. When he reached thenarrowest points, which had so interested him, he got out of the car andwalked from place to place. Once with a little jump he cleared the wash.Then Madeline noted that the farther rim was somewhat lower. In a flashshe divined Link's intention. He was hunting a place to jump the carover the crack in the ground.
Soon he found one that seemed to suit him, for he tied his red scarfupon a greasewood-bush. Then, returning to the car, he clambered in,and, muttering, broke his long silence: "This ain't no air-ship, butI've outfiggered thet damn wash." He backed up the gentle slope andhalted just short of steeper ground. His red scarf waved in the wind.Hunching low over the wheel, he started, slowly at first, then faster,and then faster. The great car gave a spring like a huge tiger. Theimpact of suddenly formed wind almost tore Madeline out of her seat. Shefelt Nels's powerful hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes. Thejolting headway of the car gave place to a gliding rush. This was brokenby a slight jar, and then above the hum and roar rose a cowboy yell.Madeline waited with strained nerves for the expected crash. It did notcome. Opening her eyes, she saw the level valley floor without a break.She had not even noticed the instant when the car had shot over thewash.
A strange breathlessness attacked her, and she attributed it to thecelerity with which she was being carried along. Pulling the hood downover her face, she sank low in the seat. The whir of the car now seemedto be a world-filling sound. Again the feeling of excitement, thepoignancy of emotional heights, the ever-present impending sense ofcatastrophe became held in abeyance to the sheer intensity of physicalsensations. There came a time when all her strength seemed to unite inan effort to lift her breast against the terrific force of the wind--todraw air into her flattened lungs. She became partly dazed. The darknessbefore her eyes was not all occasioned by the blood that pressed like astone mask on her face. She had a sense that she was floating, sailing,drifting, reeling, even while being borne swiftly as a thunderbolt. Herhands and arms were immovable under the weight of mountains. There wasa long, blank period from which she awakened to feel an arm supportingher. Then she rallied. The velocity of the car had been cut to the speedto which she was accustomed. Throwing back the hood, she breathed freelyagain, recovered fully.
The car was bowling along a wide road upon the outskirts of a city.Madeline asked what place it
could be.
"Douglas," replied Link. "An' jest around is Agua Prieta!"
That last name seemed to stun Madeline. She heard no more, and sawlittle until the car stopped. Nels spoke to some one. Then sight ofkhaki-clad soldiers quickened Madeline's faculties. She was on theboundary-line between the United States and Mexico, and Agua Prieta,with its white and blue walled houses, its brown-tiled roofs, lay beforeher. A soldier, evidently despatched by Nels, returned and said anofficer would come at once. Madeline's attention was centered in theforeground, upon the guard over the road, upon the dry, dusty townbeyond; but she was aware of noise and people in the rear. A cavalryofficer approached the car, stared, and removed his sombrero.
"Can you tell me anything about Stewart, the American cowboy who wascaptured by rebels a few days ago?" asked Madeline.
"Yes," replied the officer. "There was a skirmish over the line betweena company of Federals and a large force of guerrillas and rebels. TheFederals were driven west along the line. Stewart is reported to havedone reckless fighting and was captured. He got a Mexican sentence. Heis known here along the border, and the news of his capture stirredup excitement. We did all we could to get his release. The guerrillasfeared to execute him here, and believed he might be aided to escape. Soa detachment departed with him for Mezquital."
"He was sentenced to be shot Thursday at sunset--to-night?"
"Yes. It was rumored there was a personal resentment against Stewart. Iregret that I can't give you definite information. If you are friends ofStewart--relatives--I might find--"
"I am his wife," interrupted Madeline. "Will you please read these." Shehanded him the telegrams. "Advise me--help me, if you can?"
With a wondering glance at her the officer received the telegrams. Heread several, and whistled low in amaze. His manner became quick, alert,serious.
"I can't read these written in Spanish, but I know the names signed."Swiftly he ran through the others.
"Why, these mean Stewart's release has been authorized. They explainmysterious rumors we have heard here. Greaser treachery! For somestrange reason messages from the rebel junta have failed to reach theirdestination. We heard reports of an exchange for Stewart, but nothingcame of it. No one departed for Mezquital with authority. What anoutrage! Come, I'll go with you to General Salazar, the rebel chief incommand. I know him. Perhaps we can find out something."
Nels made room for the officer. Link sent the car whirring acrossthe line into Mexican territory. Madeline's sensibilities were nowexquisitely alive. The white road led into Agua Prieta, a town ofcolored walls and roofs. Goats and pigs and buzzards scattered beforethe roar of the machine. Native women wearing black mantles peepedthrough iron-barred windows. Men wearing huge sombreros, cotton shirtsand trousers, bright sashes round their waists, and sandals, stoodmotionless, watching the car go by. The road ended in an immense plaza,in the center of which was a circular structure that in some measureresembled a corral. It was a bull-ring, where the national sport ofbull-fighting was carried on. Just now it appeared to be quarters for aconsiderable army. Ragged, unkempt rebels were everywhere, and the wholesquare was littered with tents, packs, wagons, arms. There were horses,mules, burros, and oxen.
The place was so crowded that Link was compelled to drive slowly upto the entrance to the bull-ring. Madeline caught a glimpse of tentsinside, then her view was obstructed by a curious, pressing throng.The cavalry officer leaped from the car and pushed his way into theentrance.
"Link, do you know the road to this Mezquital?" asked Madeline.
"Yes. I've been there."
"How far is it?"
"Aw, not so very far," he mumbled.
"Link! How many miles?" she implored.
"I reckon only a few."
Madeline knew that he lied. She asked him no more; nor looked at him,nor at Nels. How stifling was this crowded, ill-smelling plaza! The sun,red and lowering, had sloped far down in the west, but still burnedwith furnace heat. A swarm of flies whirled over the car. The shadows oflow-sailing buzzards crossed Madeline's sight. Then she saw a row of thehuge, uncanny black birds sitting upon the tiled roof of a house. Theyhad neither an air of sleeping nor resting. They were waiting. Shefought off a horrible ghastly idea before its full realization. Theserebels and guerrillas--what lean, yellow, bearded wretches! Theycuriously watched Link as he went working over the car. No two werealike, and all were ragged. They had glittering eyes sunk deep in theirheads. They wore huge sombreros of brown and black felt, of straw, ofcloth. Every man wore a belt or sash into which was thrust some kind ofweapon. Some wore boots, some shoes, some moccasins, some sandals, andmany were barefooted. They were an excited, jabbering, gesticulatingmob. Madeline shuddered to think how a frenzy to spill blood could runthrough these poor revolutionists. If it was liberty they fought for,they did not show the intelligence in their faces. They were like wolvesupon a scent. They affronted her, shocked her. She wondered if theirofficers were men of the same class. What struck her at last and stirredpity in her was the fact that every man of the horde her swift glanceroamed over, however dirty and bedraggled he was, wore upon him someornament, some tassel or fringe or lace, some ensign, some band,bracelet, badge, or belt, some twist of scarf, something that betrayedthe vanity which was the poor jewel of their souls. It was in the race.
Suddenly the crowd parted to let the cavalry officer and a rebel ofstriking presence get to the car.
"Madam, it is as I suspected," said the officer, quickly. "Themessages directing Stewart's release never reached Salazar. They wereintercepted. But even without them we might have secured Stewart'sexchange if it had not been for the fact that one of his captorswanted him shot. This guerrilla intercepted the orders, and then wasinstrumental in taking Stewart to Mezquital. It is exceedingly sad. Why,he should be a free man this instant. I regret--"
"Who did this--this thing?" cried Madeline, cold and sick. "Who is theguerrilla?"
"Senor Don Carlos Martinez. He has been a bandit, a man of influence inSonora. He is more of a secret agent in the affairs of the revolutionthan an active participator. But he has seen guerrilla service."
"Don Carlos! Stewart in his power! O God!" Madeline sank down, almostovercome. Then two great hands, powerful, thrilling, clasped hershoulders, and Nels bent over her.
"Miss Majesty, shore we're wastin' time here," he said. His voice, likehis hands, was uplifting. She wheeled to him in trembling importunity.How cold, bright, blue the flash of his eyes! They told Madeline shemust not weaken. But she could not speak her thought to Nels--could onlylook at Link.
"It figgers impossible, but I'll do it!" said Link Stevens, in answerto her voiceless query. The cold, grim, wild something about her cowboysblanched Madeline's face, steeled her nerve, called to the depths of herfor that last supreme courage of a woman. The spirit of the moment wasnature with Link and Nels; with her it must be passion.
"Can I get a permit to go into the interior--to Mezquital?" askedMadeline of the officer.
"You are going on? Madam, it's a forlorn hope. Mezquital is a hundredmiles away. But there's a chance--the barest chance if your man candrive this car. The Mexicans are either murderous or ceremonious intheir executions. The arrangements for Stewart's will be elaborate. But,barring unusual circumstances, it will take place precisely at the hourdesignated. You need no permit. Your messages are official papers. Butto save time, perhaps delay, I suggest you take this Mexican, SenorMontes, with you. He outranks Don Carlos and knows the captain of theMezquital detachment."
"Ah! Then Don Carlos is not in command of the forces holding Stewart?"
"No."
"I thank you, sir. I shall not forget your kindness," concludedMadeline.
She bowed to Senor Montes, and requested him to enter the car. Nelsstowed some of the paraphernalia away, making room in the rear seat.Link bent over the wheel. The start was so sudden, with such crack androar, that the crowd split in wild disorder. Out of the plaza the carran, gathering headway; down a street lined by white and
blue walls;across a square where rebels were building barricades; along a railroadtrack full of iron flat-cars that carried mounted pieces of artillery;through the outlying guards, who waved to the officer, Montes.
Madeline bound her glasses tightly over her eyes, and wound veils roundthe lower part of her face. She was all in a strange glow, she had begunto burn, to throb, to thrill, to expand, and she meant to see all thatwas possible. The sullen sun, red as fire, hung over the mountain rangein the west. How low it had sunk! Before her stretched a narrow, whiteroad, dusty, hard as stone--a highway that had been used for centuries.If it had been wide enough to permit passing a vehicle it would havebeen a magnificent course for automobiles. But the weeds and the dustyflowers and the mesquite boughs and arms of cactus brushed the car as itsped by.
Faster, faster, faster! That old resistless weight began to pressMadeline back; the old incessant bellow of wind filled her ears. LinkStevens hunched low over the wheel. His eyes were hidden under leatherhelmet and goggles, but the lower part of his face was unprotected. Heresembled a demon, so dark and stone-hard and strangely grinning was he.All at once Madeline realized how matchless, how wonderful a driver wasthis cowboy. She divined that weakening could not have been possible toLink Stevens. He was a cowboy, and he really was riding that car, makingit answer to his will, as it had been born in him to master a horse. Hehad never driven to suit himself, had never reached an all-satisfyingspeed until now. Beyond that his motive was to save Stewart--tomake Madeline happy. Life was nothing to him. That fact gave himthe superhuman nerve to face the peril of this ride. Because of hisdisregard of self he was able to operate the machine, to choose thepower, the speed, the guidance, the going with the best judgment andhighest efficiency possible. Madeline knew he would get her to Mezquitalin time to save Stewart or he would kill her in the attempt.
The white, narrow road flashed out of the foreground, slipped withinconceivable rapidity under the car. When she marked a clump of cactusfar ahead it seemed to shoot at her, to speed behind her even theinstant she noticed it. Nevertheless, Madeline knew Link was not puttingthe car to its limit. Swiftly as he was flying, he held something inreserve. But he took the turns of the road as if he knew the way wascleared before him. He trusted to a cowboy's luck. A wagon in one ofthose curves, a herd of cattle, even a frightened steer, meant a wreck.Madeline never closed her eyes at these fateful moments. If Link couldstake himself, the others, and her upon such chance, what could not shestake with her motive? So while the great car hummed and thrummed,and darted round the curves on two wheels, and sped on like a bullet,Madeline lived that ride, meant to feel it to the uttermost.
But it was not all swift going. A stretch of softer ground delayedLink, made the car labor and pant and pound and grind through gravel.Moreover, the cactus plants assumed an alarming ability to impedeprogress. Long, slender arms of the ocotillo encroached upon the road;broad, round leaves did likewise; fluted columns, fallen like timbersin a forest, lay along the narrow margins; the bayonet cactus and thebisnagi leaned threateningly; clusters of maguey, shadowed by the huge,looming saguaro, infringed upon the highway to Mezquital. And everyleaf and blade and branch of cactus bore wicked thorns, any one of whichwould be fatal to a tire.
It came at length, the bursting report. The car lurched, went on likea crippled thing, and halted, obedient to the master hand at the wheel.Swift as Link was in replacing the tire, he lost time. The red sun, moresullen, duskier as it neared the black, bold horizon, appeared to mockMadeline, to eye her in derision.
Link leaped in, and the car sprang ahead. The road-bed changed, thetrees changed--all the surroundings changed except the cactus. Therewere miles of rolling ridges, rough in the hollows, and short rocky bitsof road, and washes to cross, and a low, sandy swale where mesquitesgrouped a forest along a trickling inch-deep sheet of water. Greenthings softened the hard, dry aspect of the desert. There were birds andparrots and deer and wild boars. All these Madeline remarked with cleareyes, with remarkable susceptibility of attention; but what she strainedto see, what she yearned for, prayed for, was straight, unobstructedroad.
But the road began to wind up; it turned and twisted in tantalizinglazy curves; it was in no hurry to surmount a hill that began to assumeproportions of a mountain; it was leisurely, as were all things inMexico except strife. That was quick, fierce, bloody--it was Spanish.
The descent from that elevation was difficult, extremely hazardous, yetLink Stevens drove fast. At the base of the hill rocks and sand all buthalted him for good. Then in taking an abrupt curve a grasping spearruined another tire. This time the car rasped across the road into thecactus, bursting the second front-wheel tire. Like demons indeed Linkand Nels worked. Shuddering, Madeline felt the declining heat of thesun, saw with gloomy eyes the shading of the red light over the desert.She did not look back to see how near the sun was to the horizon. Shewanted to ask Nels. Strange as anything on this terrible ride was theabsence of speech. As yet no word had been spoken. Madeline wanted toshriek to Link to hurry. But he was more than humanly swift in all hisactions. So with mute lips, with the fire in her beginning to chill,with a lifelessness menacing her spirit, she watched, hoped againsthope, prayed for a long, straight, smooth road.
Quite suddenly she saw it, seemingly miles of clear, narrow lanedisappearing like a thin, white streak in distant green. Perhaps LinkStevens's heart leaped like Madeline's. The huge car with a roar and ajerk seemed to answer Madeline's call, a cry no less poignant because itwas silent.
Faster, faster, faster! The roar became a whining hum. Then for Madelinesound ceased to be anything--she could not hear. The wind was now heavy,imponderable, no longer a swift, plastic thing, but solid, like anon-rushing wall. It bore down upon Madeline with such resistless weightthat she could not move. The green of desert plants along the roadmerged in two shapeless fences, sliding at her from the distance.Objects ahead began to blur the white road, to grow streaky, like raysof light, the sky to take on more of a reddening haze.
Madeline, realizing her sight was failing her, turned for one more lookat Link Stevens. It had come to be his ride almost as much as it washers. He hunched lower than ever, rigid, strained to the last degree, aterrible, implacable driver. This was his hour, and he was great. If heso much as brushed a flying tire against one of the millions of spikesclutching out, striking out from the cactus, there would be a shock,a splitting wave of air--an end. Madeline thought she saw that Link'sbulging cheek and jaw were gray, that his tight-shut lips were white,that the smile was gone. Then he really was human--not a demon. She felta strange sense of brotherhood. He understood a woman's soul as MontyPrice had understood it. Link was the lightning-forged automaton, thedriving, relentless, unconquerable instrument of a woman's will. He wasa man whose force was directed by a woman's passion. He reached up toher height, felt her love, understood the nature of her agony. Thesemade him heroic. But it was the hard life, the wild years of danger onthe desert, the companionship of ruthless men, the elemental, that madepossible his physical achievement. Madeline loved his spirit then andgloried in the man.
She had pictured upon her heart, never to be forgotten, this littlehunched, deformed figure of Link's hanging with dauntless, withdeathless grip over the wheel, his gray face like a marble mask.
That was Madeline's last clear sensation upon the ride. Blinded, dazed,she succumbed to the demands upon her strength. She reeled, fell back,only vaguely aware of a helping hand. Confusion seized her senses.All about her was a dark chaos through which she was rushing, rushing,rushing under the wrathful red eye of a setting sun. Then, as there wasno more sound or sight for her, she felt there was no color. But therush never slackened--a rush through opaque, limitless space.For moments, hours, ages she was propelled with the velocity of ashooting-star. The earth seemed a huge automobile. And it sped withher down an endless white track through the universe. Looming, ghostly,ghastly, spectral forms of cacti plants, large as pine-trees, stabbedher with giant spikes. She became an unstable being in a shap
eless,colorless, soundless cosmos of unrelated things, but always rushing,even to meet the darkness that haunted her and never reached her.
But at an end of infinite time that rush ceased. Madeline lost the queerfeeling of being disembodied by a frightfully swift careening throughboundless distance. She distinguished voices, low at first, apparentlyfar away. Then she opened her eyes to blurred but conscious sight.
The car had come to a stop. Link was lying face down over the wheel.Nels was rubbing her hands, calling to her. She saw a house with cleanwhitewashed wall and brown-tiled roof. Beyond, over a dark mountainrange, peeped the last red curve, the last beautiful ray of the settingsun.