CHAPTER XXV
THE HEART OF BONITA CASTRO
A puff of cool air streaming in through an open port roused the sleeper,and he became conscious of a restful lift and swing. The hammock boys,it seemed, had a good path beneath them and were traveling well. But theswing was longer than that of any hammock, and a steady vibration, whichresembled no sound in the forest, recalled him to remembrance. Herecognized that it was made by pounding engines. The air that fanned himwas also fresh and invigorating, and Dane lay still again with a senseof vast relief. The time of strain was over, and now for a space atleast he could rest. Dressing languidly, he went up on deck.
The ocean gleamed, a great sheet of rippling silver, under the moon.Clear stars burned above the mastheads, which swayed to and fro athwartthem, while the splash of tumbling waters and the sting of flung-upspray seemed charged with healing. Lights shone in the smoking-roomwindows, through which laughter and a murmur of voices came out, butjust then merriment would have jarred on Dane, and he leaned over therails, baring his head to the breeze, and trying to realize what hadhappened to him. He felt that the shadow which had hung over him hadmelted while he slept, and escaping from its baleful darkness, which hadobscured his mental vision, he had awakened sane. Then, though for thesake of one who slept on a lonely bluff beyond the Leopards' country,Dane did not regret what had been done, he shuddered, remembering theone grim purpose which had dominated him.
"We did not expect to see you yet," said the skipper, halting beside himwith the doctor. "Of course, we have had only one topic ofconversation."
"What is the general opinion?" Dane asked indifferently.
"My glass is an old one, but the mate has one of the latest inventions,"the skipper answered. "He declares it was the white man who upset thecanoe, and did it deliberately."
"I should like to see the mate," exclaimed Dane. "If he is right itwould to some extent be a relief to me."
"I haven't quite relinquished my authority yet," the doctor interposed."One might conclude it would be wise for you to give your mind a restfrom that particular subject. A good many things happen in this countrywhich it is well to forget; and there are signs that your load has beenas heavy as you are fit to carry."
"It is good advice, if somewhat hard to profit by," said Dane; and thetwo men turned away. The skipper's words, however, had removed his lastcompunction. He had determined to deliver Rideau to justice, and notplanned to drown him, but if his enemy had preferred to take his ownlife rather than stand a trial, the responsibility did not rest upon hispursuer.
Dane strolled forward out on to the reeling forecastle, and found theswift passage of the ship through the moonlit water soothing. Aheadthere was neither reef nor shoal. She forged on, hurling aside each seawhich barred her way, straight toward a safe haven through open water.It seemed a happy augury, and presently Dane retired tranquilly to sleepagain.
Early the next morning the mate and the skipper went ashore with him ata cluster of white-washed buildings, over the largest of which thetricolor floated, and were courteously received by a little elderlyofficer. His secretary took down the statements made by the captain andmate, and when these had been sworn to, he quoted from a book before himas he turned to Dane.
"It sounds like a romance, but we have proof that Monsieur speaks thetruth," he said. "He will return to Petit Mahu with an official who willexamine the traders and the Indigene. Until his report is considered,Monsieur will not leave this colony. In touching the gold, the signatureof this contract is undoubtedly that of Victor Rideau, and under theterms of it his share is forfeit. Thus, subject to certain fees,Monsieur retains possession. In regard to the position of the river hedecides to say nothing? It is not convenient that more white men losetheir lives in that country of the devil, or cause the bad understandingwith the Indigene. We have not yet open it for exploitation. Ourinformation describes it as barren, and without value, which Monsieurwill, I think, not contradict."
Dane had little trouble with the authorities. A commendable absence ofuseless formalities characterized all their dealings with him, and in avery brief space he was free to leave the colony. His men had been paidmuch more than they bargained for, and it was with genuine regret thathe took leave of the last of them; it was with difficulty that hedissuaded Monday from accompanying him to England. The few Kroosremaining at Mahu when he left paddled him off to his steamer; andlooking back from her deck, he could see Amadu's tall figure on thebeach. Redmond and Gilby came on board, and, dining there, celebratedthe parting so thoroughly that several seamen were needed to assist theminto their boat, while how any of the party ran the gauntlet of the surfwas more than Dane knew. They were not men of much refinement and hadtheir weaknesses, black and white alike; but he owed a good deal to thesturdy heathen, while the two of paler color, instead of turning asidefrom a distressed compatriot, had shown themselves ready to assist himwith a warm-hearted recklessness not always to be found among thosepossessing a higher degree of culture.
Dane had one task still before him; and it was a hot afternoon when hecalled for the last time at Dom Pedro's factory. It seemed almoststrange that everything should remain as he had last seen it--the littleolive-faced gentleman lounging, cigarette in hand, against the verandabalustrade, and Bonita and her sleepy aunt lying in deep chairs in theshadow. In spite of the heat and sickness in that land, life goessmoothly at an African factory run by men of Latin race.
Dane was puzzled by something in Bonita's manner as she rose to meethim. She showed little pleasure, but rather suppressed anxiety, andlooked past him toward the beach as though expecting somebody. Even DomPedro seemed shaken out of his usual serenity, the senora's eyes wereopen wide, and there was a silence after the opening courtesies.
"It is with the great satisfaction we see you safe," said Dom Pedro,though satisfaction was not what his voice most clearly expressed. "Butyou bring us news? Two of you go up yonder, and there is a third whofollow. One only he comes back."
Dane guessed that the speaker's anxiety chiefly concerned the third whofollowed, and the implied question was the least difficult to answer.
"I have news," he said. "The man who followed us was no friend of yours,senorita?"
Bonita Castro's lips curled scornfully.
"No. I have little cause to be a friend of him."
"He will harass you no longer. He is dead," said Dane.
There was no pity, but rather pride and a still strained anxiety in thegirl's eyes.
"It is as I told you, padre. The dog has failed in his treachery and theSenor Maxwell has kill him."
"No. He was drowned at sea."
"It was not the Senor Maxwell who kill him? And the man with the crosson his forehead?"
"No," said Dane. "Rideau was drowned while trying to avoid me. The manwith the cross on his forehead is also dead. He twice attempted mycomrade's life, and I shot him one night when he was crawling toward mytent."
Bonita bent her head in a curious formal salutation.
"Our felicitations, Don Ilton. And the Senor Maxwell?"
Her voice grew a little deeper with the last question, and there was anote in it which puzzled Dane, while she cast a swift glance toward thesecond surf-boat lurching in shore from the anchored steamer. The manhesitated before he answered.
"He also is dead, senorita. He was treacherously murdered in the forestbeyond the Leopards' country."
Amid all the memories Dane carried with him from Africa there were onlytwo which equaled in vividness that of the few following moments. Thegirl stifled a half-articulate cry, and a heavy silence succeeded. DomPedro grasped the rails hard with genuine consternation in his face; andthere was horror in the senora's expression. Bonita stood stifflyupright, with lips turned suddenly bloodless and a look that astonishedDane in her dilated eyes. Beyond that space of shadow there was dazzlingsunlight, and to emphasize the stillness on the veranda the hot airvibrated with the roar of the sea. The girl appeared to choke forbreath. Understanding suddenly, Dane turn
ed his eyes away. It was thesenora who spoke first.
"All dead. _Reina de los angeles--ave!_" she murmured.
Dane, looking round again, saw that Bonita was mistress of herself. Itwas all clear now, and he admired as well as pitied her. Passionate,vindictive, wayward as she was, the blow had stirred within her thepride of her race, and it was with a queenly air she turned toward him.
"The senor will pardon us if we give him pain, but he will tell us all.Of Rideau's treachery, and--how his comrade fell."
Dane fancied that he was the only one in the party who had guessed thegirl's secret; and he might not have done so but that sympathy quickenedhis perceptions, for he also had loved Carsluith Maxwell. He felt thatit might be well for Bonita Castro if she heard everything, and heroused himself to do his fallen comrade justice. Thus the dead man movedan heroic figure through all the kaleidoscopic happenings. The rest,black and brown, were lay figures, himself a puppet obeying the leader'swill; and, when the narrative concluded, Dane felt that if others nowknew his comrade as he had known him he was satisfied. Remembering whathe had seen he could, he fancied, read by the light of it what waspassing in Bonita Castro's mind. At times she listened with quiveringlips, then a moisture gathered in her eyes, which nevertheless glitteredwith a curious pride, and he thought her superb when at last, with aglance only, she thanked the bringer of the news.
"He was all _caballero_, as you say, a very gallant gentleman. I willpray for the sound rest of him," she said.
Dom Pedro moved uneasily.
"He was a man without principle this Rideau. With excuses to the senor,I would my books examine, and try to figure of how much he rob me," hesaid, and hurried away.
Bonita followed, and Dane was left with her sleepy aunt who presentlyastonished him. The senora, it appeared, was a lady of much keenerperceptions than he had imagined; and he understood why she told himwhat had happened during Rideau's last visit to the factory. It wasevident that Dane owed his life in a measure to her niece. When sheconcluded, the lady lapsed into a somnolent silence, which, if assumed,was tactful, leaving the man, who was glad of a respite fromconversational effort, to digest the information.
Dom Pedro had cargo for the steamer, and it was late when Dane saidgood-by to Bonita on the moonlit veranda. It may have been due to thesilvery light, but she seemed to have changed, and Dane shrank a littlefrom meeting her. Bonita, however, spoke very quietly.
"I have a confession to make," she said. "You have done much for myfather, and it is right that I tell you."
"Please don't, senorita," Dane interposed; but the girl checked him.
"You lost the Senor Maxwell's map here, and I, who found it, sold itRideau. It was the infamy, but the price was tempting--and I knew one ofyou would kill him. You will try to forget the injury?"
"I think I know why you did it, and I do not blame you," said Dane. "Ishall most clearly remember that, when I was sick, you saved my life forme, as I think you did again when you helped my comrade to forestallRideau."
Bonita smiled a little.
"You are generous, but I would have it so. Then we are, as you say, theequal. I have been able to help you. You give me my liberty. You sailnow for England, Don Ilton?"
"Yes," said Dane; and again Bonita Castro astonished him.
"She loves you?" she asked simply.
The question was startling, and the man answered stupidly.
"I hope so. I--I do not know."
For a moment the swift laughter rose to the girl's eyes, but died in itsbirth, and the movement of her hands that followed it stirred the man'spity.
"You do not know? I saw the picture, and it was for her you went up intothe Leopards' country. You are a strange people, Don Ilton--and theSenor Maxwell, he was like you?"
Dane afterward remained uncertain why he spoke as he did, but the wordsframed themselves, as it were, without his volition.
"No," he said; "nobody could compare me with Maxwell. Nor do I think Ihave met many such as he; but when he was dying, he spoke much of you.He told me you had promised to help us, and that he could trust you. Itwas almost his last charge that I should tell you so."
Dane knew by her swift grateful glance that Bonita Castro blessed himfor the speech. In impulsive southern fashion, she held out both handsto him.
"_Vaya con Dios_, and the good saints send you happiness! I think weneither of us forget what has happened here, Don Ilton."
The last words ended in something like a sob, and Dane, who could thinkof no fitting words to say, only crushed the little hot hands in his ownand swung his hat low as he turned away. Dom Pedro walked to thesurf-boat with him, but Dane scarcely heard what he said, for histhoughts were centered on the girl, who stood, a pathetic figure, gazingafter him from the moonlit veranda.
The Krooboys were slow to reach the steamer, but Dane was the betterpleased, for he hardly felt equal to facing the questions or thebadinage of her passengers just then.
CHAPTER XXVI
REWARDED
It was a sunny afternoon when the little West Coast mailboat's enginesceased their throbbing off the mole of Santa Cruz, Teneriffe. Clearskies had hung over her as she rolled northward in no great hurry, andthe fresh breezes which curl the sparkling sea between Morocco and thefever coast had brought new life to her sickly passengers. Dane felt hisheart grow lighter as each league of deep blue water rolled astern, andthe shadow of the dark land had almost fallen from him when the Canariesrose out of the sea. He had youth on his side, besides a comparativelyclean conscience and a sound constitution; and a little chest consignedby him to a British bank was locked in the steamer's specie room. Thoughhe would gladly have flung its contents into the sea to undo the past,regrets were futile. So, with a courage which sprang rather fromhumility than pride, he had determined to ask Lilian Chatterton toeither share his struggles or await his prosperity.
The long black mole slid past, the bows forged more slowly through thecrystal brine, and the harbor opened up. Even before the yellow flagfluttered aloft, boats by the dozen shot out from the lava steps, andDane eagerly scanned the faces of their occupants. They were fruitpeddlers, shipping and coaling clerks, and he sighed with disappointmentas he next swept his eyes along the mole. Nobody among the loungersthere raised a hat or a handkerchief.
"Expecting friends?" asked the purser, halting beside him.
"I was," Dane answered dejectedly. "Although I cabled from the Coast, Idon't see them."
"I wouldn't count too much on that," smiled the purser. "Nobody is veryparticular in Spanish possessions, and it's quite possible they lostyour message or couldn't decipher the English name. We shall fill uphere with tourists, and if you are going home with us you must let meknow."
"I can't tell you now," Dane said. "It depends on what I hear ashore."
"Well, I won't keep a berth for you."
He left Dane troubled when he turned away, for he had certainly expectedChatterton to welcome him and he had counted the days until he could askLilian an eventful question. He had hoped also that the cable messagewould have prepared them for his tidings; he shrank from again appearingunexpectedly as the bearer of tragic news. There was no time to be lost,however, and he went ashore in the first boat. Strange faces looked downat him from the mole, and no friendly voice was raised in greeting; andfurther annoyance awaited him when he hurried into the hotel.
Mr. Chatterton and family had stayed there for a time, but had left, themajor-domo said. He thought they had gone to Madeira, but they mighthave sailed for England, or anywhere. It was not his business to askwhere any Englishman wandered to, but the clerk might know. The clerk,it appeared, was out, and might not be back for an hour or so, but themajor-domo suggested that in the meantime something might be gatheredby an examination of the visitors' letters in his office. He showed Danewhere the office was, and then shrugged his shoulders.
"What pity! Ramon he have lock the door," he said.
"That's a very small obstacle," answered Dane. "Nobody else has a key
, Isuppose, so I'm going to get in through the window, and I will mostcertainly break it if he has fastened that up, too."
There were murmurs of protest, and Dane fancied that half the staffgathered in the hall and watched him endeavor to wrench the sash out bymain force. When he had almost accomplished it, somebody suggested thatwhen Ramon locked the front door he usually left one at the side open.It was a characteristic example of how things are managed in Latincountries; and the next minute Dane was busy turning over a bundle ofletters in the office. There were several for Thomas and Mrs.Chatterton, and the sight of them filled him with satisfaction. Then hiseye was caught by his own name on the top of two envelopes reforwardedto Chatterton, and after a swift glance at the embossed name on theback, he tore the first open.
It was from a celebrated engineering firm, and his blood pulsed fasteras he read it:
"Although when you last called upon us we could not quite see our way todo so on the terms you mentioned, we are now prepared to undertake themanufacture and sale of your invention on the following conditions."
Dane saw that the conditions were as favorable as any non-capitalistinventor could expect, but he felt that the gold he had sent home wouldhelp him to improve them; and it was with a thrill of satisfaction thathe opened the second letter. This was from his last employers, offeringhim reasonable remuneration if he would undertake the supervision of themachines and bridge work they were sending out to execute an importantrailroad-building contract abroad.
Here was one difficulty removed, at least. Dane hastened to the cableoffices, and felt a great contentment when his messages were on thewires. His prospects were improving, and it was encouraging to know hewould not pose as a wholly indigent suitor. When he reached the hotelonce more, the clerk had returned, and informed him that Mr. Chattertonand family had retired for the sake of coolness to Laguna, five or sixmiles away.
Dane procured a horse, and within the next few minutes he was urging itat its best pace up the steep hillside. The horse, as it happened, was agood one, and its rider's spirits rose higher as each mile went by. Itwas a fine evening, and to one fresh from the enervating heat of Africa,there was a wonderful buoyancy in the cool air that came down from thecordillera. It was a refreshing change to see the merry brown faces ofthe peasants who saluted him as he passed, and hear the laughter of themule drivers as their climbing teams dropped behind. Dane had almostforgotten the dark land when the white walls of drowsy Laguna rose toview. The loungers in the plaza knew the Englishman Dane inquired for,and one of them preceded him down a narrow street with a dignifiedleisureliness which even the sight of a dollar failed to dissipate, andfinally halted outside a high-walled garden doubtless laid out by someCastilian conquistador four centuries ago.
Dane swung himself from the saddle before a door ornamented by abeautiful bronze bell handle, and spent two minutes pulling the bellvigorously. There was no answer nor any sound within, and rememberingthat it did not necessarily follow that the handle had a wire attached,he stepped back into the roadway and flung himself against the barrier.A hasp of some kind yielded, and he staggered forward into the garden.The sun was dipping behind the cordillera, but its red light beat intohis eyes, and at first he could see only a row of crimson oleandersstretching away before him. Their fragrance and the scent of heliotropewas heavy within his nostrils. Passing through the shadow of anorange-tree he made out a white wall garlanded by blue bougainvillea,and halted at the sound of a startled voice as his eyes fell upon thegroup on the terrace beneath it.
Thomas Chatterton had flung his chair back, and stood up with a flushedface, speaking excitedly. His niece also had risen, and her gaze wasfixed upon the man who came hurriedly out of the shadow of the tree. Shewas silent, but Dane read in her eyes that which set his heart beating,and for a second or two he saw only the dainty figure and the smilingface turned toward his own.
The elation suddenly died out within him, and it was by an effort thathe moved forward, for there was a third in the party. A man withiron-gray hair stood a little apart from the rest, and while each of hiscompanions showed that they rejoiced to see the new arrival, he wasgazing fixedly at the open door behind him. Dane saw that it wasBrandram Maxwell of Culmeny, and knew why he watched the door.
"This is even more than we hoped for, Hilton, though we have all beenanxiously waiting for news of you," said Chatterton. "Thank Heaven youare safe anyway. Worth a good many dead men, isn't he, Lilian? She knewMaxwell would bring you out; and when I grew anxious her confidencereassured me. But why didn't you cable--and where is Maxwell?"
Dane disregarded the last question, for Lilian laid her hand in his. Hewas not certain what she said, but her eyes were shining under thehalf-closed lashes in a fashion that was eloquent enough. Still Danecould not linger to wonder what, if they were fully opened, he might seewithin them, for Chatterton repeated his question.
"Where have you left Carsluith. Did he not come up with you from SantaCruz?"
"No," Dane answered, and his voice shook a little. "Did you receive mycable?"
"We did not," said Chatterton. "What has gone wrong, Hilton. Speak out,man!"
Lilian, guided by some womanly instinct, laid her hand warningly on thespeaker's arm, and Dane nerved himself for the hardest task of all, asthe owner of Culmeny, moving forward, stood close beside him. He wasvery much like what Dane's dead comrade had been--wiry, spare, and grim.The drooping gray moustache matched the pallor of his face; but his eyeswere steady and keen, and only a deepening of the lines about thembetrayed his anxiety.
"I fear you bring bad news," he said.
"I do," Dane answered as steadily as he could, though the older man'scomposure rendered his task even harder than a sign of weakness wouldhave done. "I had hoped the cable I sent might have prepared you--andnow I hardly know how to tell you."
It was just possible to see that a tremor ran through Maxwell and hislean hand closed a little more firmly than was needful on the back of achair.
"Brevity is best. Disaster has overtaken him?"
"Yes."
The owner of Culmeny looked him full in the eyes, and it was some timebefore Dane could shake off the memory of that gaze.
"It is the worst--he is dead?" he said; and Dane mutely bent his head.
Brandram Maxwell's fingers trembled, and for a moment he looked at theground; then he spoke very quietly:
"I feared this when I saw he was not with you. Tell me how it happened.It is not the first shrewd blow fate has dealt me."
Chatterton and Lilian would have turned away, but Maxwell beckoned themto remain.
"No. We have grown to be good friends, and I should like you to hear it,too," he said, looking toward Lilian. "There will be no cause for anyone who knew my son to blush at this story. It will be a kindness if youhide nothing, Hilton."
Dane afterward wondered how he got through that recital. At thebeginning speech seemed to fail him, but one listener's spirit infectedhim as he proceeded, and pride was mingled with the man's grief, forwhat he had seen in Bonita Castro's face he read in that of the owner ofCulmeny. It was dark when he concluded:
"I can tell you nothing more, sir, and, though God knows it is thetruth, it is useless to say that I would willingly have staked my ownlife on the chance of saving him."
Lilian appeared to be crying softly, and Chatterton troubled withsomething in his throat, for he coughed several times vigorously, butMaxwell held out his hand to Dane.
"I believe you would. You were his friend," he said, still with astartling quietness. "You did your best for my dead son, and no man dareblame you. It is a brave story, and I am not ashamed of his end. It wasin accordance with the traditions of an unfortunate family. But you willexcuse me. I am getting an old man and weaker in the fiber than I usedto be."
He turned away, holding himself stiffly erect, and Chatterton laid aheavy grasp on Dane's shoulder.
"Well done, Hilton. If you had not chased that damned rascal to hisdeath I'd have sent you back with another ex
pedition to take up the huntagain. I am sorry for Culmeny. He was fonder of Carsluith than anythingelse under heaven, and you saw how he took the blow. Well, I won my ownplace, and went through the fire for it, but the brand Culmeny wears iswhat I could never attain to. They were alike, both of them, and it willbe a long time before we find their equal. Perhaps I had better followand try to comfort him."
It struck Dane that Thomas Chatterton, though not lacking in sympathy,would hardly make a tactful comforter, but he did not say so, and Lilianseemed content to let him go.
"You are not sorry to see me, Lilian?" asked Dane, taking one of thegirl's hands into his own, for her cheeks were damp yet, and bending, hecaught her answer.
"No, but I was shocked. Hilton, I felt that when he went out to save youhe knew he was going to his death, and I--I let him go."
"Even you could not have turned him aside," said Dane.
"I--right or wrong--I did not try."
"He was a better man than I am," declared Dane. "But it is fortunatethat there are women who can be content with less than the best, andmake up the deficiencies themselves. Will you listen to a little tale,one which is rather amusing than somber?"
"Is it about the poacher? If so, you need not tell me. You must alsotake the confession I ought to make for granted. You were always ablunderer, Hilton."
"I dare say I was," Dane answered, laying his hand on the girl'sshoulder in a masterful fashion. "And my last adventure was perhaps themaddest freak of all; but that is beside the question. I once made avery vague arrangement with you, though you kindly said we understoodeach other. Now, I must ask you, do you wish that understanding tocontinue. If so, the only way for me to keep it would be to go back toAfrica. A steamer sails to-morrow."
"No," the girl said shyly, then lifted her head and glanced at hercompanion. "I dare not send you back to that hateful country, Hilton."
There was no need for further speech. Dane knew that he had won at last.
THE END
Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors present in theoriginal text have been corrected.
In Chapter IV, "You need not be. unless you are fond of poverty" waschanged to "You need not be, unless you are fond of poverty", and acomma was added after "That same, sir".
In Chapter VI, a period was added after "the power of lucid speechdeserted him".
In Chapter IX, "Your sister, persumably" was changed to "Your sister,presumably".
In Chapter XI, "at sunrise tomorrow" was changed to "at sunriseto-morrow", and a comma was changed to a period after "until I wascertain".
In Chapter XII, a comma was removed from "the footsore, and spiritlesscarriers".
In Chapter XV, "prospecting for Niven'st gold" was changed to"prospecting for Niven's gold", and a comma was added after "I think oneof you will".
In Chapter XVI, "unpleasnt frame of mind" was changed to "unpleasantframe of mind", and "snuggly curtained room" was changed to "snuglycurtained room".
In Chapter XVII, "which suprised the listener" was changed to "whichsurprised the listener", and a period was added after "said Liliansharply".
In Chapter XXII, a period was added after "the white men who do notspeak your tongue".
In Chapter XXIII, "Dane ran straight in upon his emeny" was changed to"Dane ran straight in upon his enemy".
In Chapter XXIV, "out in less then five minutes" was changed to "out inless than five minutes", and "the scene we just witnessesd" was changedto "the scene we just witnessed".
In Chapter XXV, "Reina de los anegles" was changed to "Reina de losangeles".
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