The Mystery of The Barranca

  CHAPTER XII

  Thoroughly fagged out by six weary nights on the train, Seyd slept likethe dead, and did not awaken until a sudden clatter of pots aroused himto knowledge of a golden cobweb of light streaming in between the flimsysiding of the hut. Through the open doorway he obtained a glimpse of abejeweled world, resonant with the song of birds. After informing him ofthese facts, his eyes reintroduced him to the young lady in the tanriding habit who had ousted the pretty peona of last night from hercommand over fire and dishes. The satisfying odor of hot coffeecompleted the verdict of his senses.

  "Breakfast all ready? I must have slept like a log."

  "You did." She laughed. "I rattled the dishes in vain. I was just aboutto throw something at you."

  Now, his last waking thought had outlined a purpose to inform her atonce of his marriage, and while they were eating breakfast it recurredagain. But not with the same force. That which, when imbued with thesentimental values of firelight and silence, appeared necessary andright somehow appeared almost absurd when viewed in broad day. Checkingsentiment, too, by its very friendliness, her manner did not inviteconfession.

  "It would be impertinent," he concluded. "She has no personal interestin me."

  If he had observed her only an hour earlier re-entering the _jacal_after a shivering exchange outside with the peona he might not have beenquite so sure. Once or twice she had indulged in softer thought, whosekey was to be found in her murmur just before she tried to awake him:

  "_Adios_, Rosario."

  Also the morning had brought its own problem to fill his mind. He couldnot but see that their appearance at the inn in the Barranca so early inthe day would be a confession of their breach of the most rigid ofSpanish conventions. But how to broach the subject without offense?Though he racked his brains while saddling the horse and, later, when itwas carrying them double upon their way, he had come to no conclusion upto the moment that she settled it herself with a little cry.

  "Now I know where I am." She was indicating an outcropping of rock on asterile hillside. "We strayed miles away from our trail. We shall sooncome to a path that leads past a rancho where I can borrow a horse."

  Almost as they spoke the cattle track they had been following joined atrail, and shortly after she spoke again, laughing. "And now, SenorRosario, I must bid you good-by. This good beast has done nobly, but weshall gain time if one rides forward to the rancho and sends back ahorse. Which shall it be?"

  But he was already on the ground, hat in hand. "Rosa, _adios_."

  Laughing, she rode on while he sat down on an outcropping of rock towait, for he was not minded to wade through the wet grass and brush ofsome woods at the foot of the hill. Until she passed from sight he satwatching, then, feeling a little lazy, he fitted his angles into a sortof natural couch in the rock and fell to musing, reviewing again theincidents of the night. He had not intended to sleep. But what with thewarmth and stillness, he presently passed quietly away, was stillunconscious when the stroke of a hoof on a rock awoke him to the sightof two horsemen with a led beast.

  "For me," he thought. Then, as he recognized Sebastien Rocha in thesecond horseman, he whistled his consternation. If the hacendado had notactually met Francesca he must surely have pumped the _mozo_ dry, andnow the sight of him, Seyd, would fully reveal their case!

  "Now for a big fat row," he told himself. But, greatly to his surprise,Sebastien passed on with a nod, and presently turned from the trail,following their fresh hoof tracks over the hill. The _mozo_ had alreadygone on to retrieve Francesca's saddle from the dead horse, and,irritated and alarmed, Seyd mounted the led beast and rode on at agallop. But, quickly realizing that his further company was not likelyto improve the girl's case, he presently pulled the beast back to awalk. Lost in frowning thought, he rode on slowly until, an hour later,there came a beat of galloping hoofs, and Sebastien rode up from behind.

  His reiteration of the thought "Now for the row!" was colored by the wayin which the hacendado's hand went to his holster. But Seyd's hand,which moved as quickly to his own gun, dropped, and he blushed crimsonas the other held out his brier pipe.

  "Merely _this_, senor." He glanced meaningly at Seyd's gun. "For _that_you would have been too late. I could have shot you through the back.After this do not let your foolish Yankee pride stop you from lookingbehind."

  Though both angry and alarmed, the cold impudence of it made Seyd laugh."Yes? How did you resist the temptation?"

  "It was a temptation." He gravely approved the word. "Your back madesuch a fine smooth mark. I could see the bullet splash in the center."

  "Then why didn't you? Since you are so frank I don't mind saying that Ibelieve that you already had a hand in at least one of three attempts onmy life! Is it that you would prefer to have me blown up?"

  "Like your predecessor, the Hollander?" Sebastien's shrug might havemeant anything. "I have, of course, my preferences, and some day I shallhave to decide in just which way I would wish you put to death. Inpassing the opportunity now you ought to feel complimented, for let metell you that I would never leave any Mexican lips free to tell of yourexperiences last night."

  The man's tone of quiet certainty robbed the words of extravagance; and,accustomed now to a life that out-melodramaed melodrama, Seyd knewbetter than to take them for jest. "That's very nice of you," he quietlyanswered, and as just then the trail narrowed to pass through a copalgrove he added: "Forewarned is forearmed. Just to keep you out oftemptation--will you please to go first?"

  "With pleasure."

  Faint though it was, the smile that loosened the firm mouth made iteasier for Seyd to continue when they were riding once more side byside. "For the young lady's sake I am glad to have you take such asensible view of an unavoidable situation. I take it that you were goingthe other way. If you can trust me--"

  "Trust no one and you will never be deceived. If I had my way of itthere would be an end to the girl's wild tricks. But since she _will_ beabroad, what better escort could she have than her kinsman?"

  "None," Seyd agreed. "I overtook her by accident, cared for her the bestthat I could; now she is in your hands."

  Sebastien shook his head. "Not so swiftly. She would hardly thank me foryour dismissal." While the shadow of a smile lifted the corner of histhin lips he added: "The last time I mixed in her affairs she refused tospeak with me for over a year, and I have no mind to repeat theexperience. We are all going to San Nicolas. It would be foolish to rideapart."

  "Very well," Seyd agreed, not, however, with any great degree ofpleasure. Apart from the strain involved by a day's travel with a manwho had just confessed to a permanent intention of killing him he feltmore disappointment than he would have cared to admit at the spoiling ofthe tete-a-tete with the girl. In fact, the feeling was so acute that hefound it necessary to justify it in his own thought. "It was only for aday," he mused, slightly changing his previous conclusion to fit thecase, "and I'd like to have seen it out."

  "So! so! The storm proved a little too much for this one."

  They had just ridden into copal woods, and, looking up, Seyd saw that hewas pointing at a pile of bones and wet tatters of clothing that layunder a swinging fray of rope. If possible, it was more grisly ofappearance than a second mummy which still swung, clicking its miserablebones in the wind. Whether or no he noticed Seyd's shiver of disgustSebastien ran easily on:

  "He was a stout rogue, this fellow, with a keen eye for a pretty womanand small scruples as to how he got her. It was, indeed, through thislittle weakness that we caught him, using a girl to bait the trap. Buthe died game--with a joke on his lips. 'Senor,' he said, as the mulewent from under him, 'if but one-half of my brats walk in my steps thouwilt have need of an army to finish us up.'

  "He had humor, too. He it was that stole the altar service from thechurch of San Anselmo to pay the priest of Guadaloupe to say a thousandmasses for the repose of his soul. He was dead and the masses saidbefore the service was traced by a pilgrim to the Guadaloupe shrine, andever s
ince the priests have been at war--both over the return of theservice and to decide the burning question as to whether it is possibleto nullify a heavenly title obtained through fraud. It makes a prettypoint in theology, and the battle still rages. Being debarred fromphysical expression, the brute in a priest exercises itself through thetongue, and they will not leave such a choice morsel till the last shredof meat has been gnawed from the bones."

  In presence of those dumb witnesses to its truth, the grim bantersounded even grimmer. During the long white nights that followed harddays at work on the smelter nothing had suited Caliban more than to bedrawn on to talk of the war against the brigands. Under the red light ofa camp fire, with the vast night of the Barranca yawning below, thetales had been spun--tales that had outdone the dime novels of Seyd'syouth. Of them all, that which had ended with the hanging of the lastbandit in this very glade had outdone all in sheer desperation.

  Kindling to the romance of it all, he took stealthy note, as they rodeon, of the lithe muscular figure, which was as extraordinary in itsbalanced strength as the calm power of the quiet brown face. When memorydrew a vivid contrast between Sebastien and his early training in thesober atmosphere of the English commercial boarding-school Seydwondered, and finally put his wonder into words.

  "Didn't you find the transition from Manchester rather sudden? It musthave been like plunging head first into a romance."

  "Romance?" For the first time that morning, for matter of that, in alltheir intercourse, Sebastien laughed outright. "Oh, you Anglo-Saxons!Romance is a creature of your own dreamy idealism. We do not know it. Weare passionate, nervous, hysterical, gross, materialistic, but for allour heat we see life more clearly than you. It would be better for us ifwe did not. For where in the mirror of your imaginings you see yourstrength enormously magnified our clearer perceptions show ourweaknesses. Even at the point of death you neither see nor acceptdefeat. But we, cowering before it, are swept the quicker away." Just ason that other occasion when he stood talking beside their fire on therim of the Barranca, this came out of his quiet with volcanic heat.Dropping as quickly into his usual calm, he finished, "No, I did notfind it romantic--merely amusing."

  Nettled a little by his amused contempt, Seyd quickly retorted: "I failto see how you can claim to have no ideals? You who are striving withall your might against the American invasion?"

  Sebastien shrugged. "Racial aversion--backed up by the instinct ofself-preservation. Even cattle will band together against the wolves.But remove the danger and the bulls fall at once fighting for command ofthe herd. Before Diaz we had sixty-five rulers in sixty years, very fewof whom died in their beds. Once remove his iron hand from our throatsand we shall go at it again, revolution upon revolution, for the solepurpose of satisfying some man's personal ambition, lust, or individualgreed. No, senor, we are individualists in the extreme. We have nothingin our make-up to correspond to the racial ideal that makes you Northmensubordinate personal interest to the general good. And because of ourlack you will eventually rule us."

  "Yet you strive against it?"

  "For the one reason, as I told you, that the weaker wolf declines to beeaten. Individually, I find it amusing. I would much prefer shootinggringo soldiery to hanging Mexican bandits."

  "And the General--Don Luis?"

  Once again Sebastien laughed. "That old revolutionist? He would deny allI have said as rank heresy, though he himself is its most startlingexample. He would say that he was for Mexico, but Mexico, to him, isMexico with a Garcia for president. Selfish to the backbone, every oneof us."

  In a phrase he had described Don Luis, and, while he could not but smileat its truth, Seyd was just a little startled by the keen intelligenceand flashing intuition. Even after allowing for advantages of travel andeducation the man's sharp reasoning and originality were remarkable.Like a clear black pool his mind sharply reflected all that passed overit, and always the conception stood out as under a lightning flash.

  "No, senor," he went on, after a pause, "we are individualists, and assuch can only obtain happiness by following our own bent. If we are heldback for a while by Porfirio, be sure that sooner or later we shallreturn with greater zest to our ancient pastime of cutting each other'sthroats."

  His uncanny intelligence, too, threw sinister lights on everything theypassed. "I told you we were gross," he said, indicating a youth and abrown girl who were flirting through the barred windows of an adoberanch house. "The proof--the bars. With us love is a passion; the idealexists only in our songs."

  Shortly thereafter they rode out on the rim overlooking the Barranca,and the necessity of riding in single file down the zigzag staircasesbrought an end to their talk. Neither did he begin it again as theycrossed the bottom flat to the inn. Coming after a long silence, theinvitation which he delivered at last, as they rode into the patio, cameas a greater surprise.

  "I feel certain, senor, that my cousin will wish you to lunch with us."

  Because another trait in Sebastien's nature was not revealed until, afew minutes later, he knocked at Francesca's door, Seyd failed to seethat which, after all, was perhaps even more surprising. As he enteredin response to her call she rose and stood, one hand resting on thesmall altar where burned a tiny taper; and as he stood looking at heracross the length of the room the inquiry in her wide eyes becametouched with fear.

  "It is you?" she broke the silence. "They told me that you spent lastnight here. How was it that I did not meet you on the way?"

  "Simply because I had happened to turn in at the Rancho del Rio to lookat some cattle. But I overtook the _mozo_ you sent back with the horsefor the gringo. Also I called in at the _jacal_ of Miguel, the vaqueroof San Angel, where I found Maria, his woman, just returned. She wasrejoicing over a supernatural visitation. It seems that while she andMiguel were away the Virgin Guadaloupe abode in their house, and evenhonored Maria by putting on her best fiesta clothes. In proof thereofshe showed me a silver peso that the Virgin left tied up in one cornerof her chemisette. It was truly remarkable, and I was well on my way toa healthy conversion when I happened to stumble on the gringo's pipe--atleast, he claimed it on sight."

  "And you immediately turned about to tattle this to me?"

  He merely smiled under her bright scorn. "To see you home."

  "Where you will proceed to make my mother eternally miserable, anduncle--"

  "--Infernally angry? On the contrary, I am prepared to back up withpistol and knife the tale of Maria's visitation. Why should I wish tobring suffering to the good mother? It was a hap of the trail, and, muchas I hate all gringos, it was far better that you should have been inthis man's hands. Some day I may have to kill him, and I shall do itwith greater pleasure because of this!"

  "If the attempt does not fail as miserably as that which you made on hissoul."

  "Put it morals, cousin, just to bring it within the bounds of mycomprehension. You know my beliefs as to souls."

  "In any case it was a mean trick."

  "Tricks are tricks only when they fail. Successful, they rise to thedignity of strategems. And he ought not to complain. Did he not come outof the ordeal unscathed, tricked out in the flowers of virtue? He'sreally in my debt. But returning to my point, some day I shall kill him;but in the mean time I have asked him to lunch with us. As he lookedhungry, I should suggest a little haste."

  "I am ready now." Going toward him, she spoke, hesitantly: "Letme--thank you. Were you always thus, Sebastien, we should be betterfriends."

  "_Gracias_, anything but that." Bowing, he stood aside to permit her topass. "The half liking that you deal out to Anton, Javier, and otherfat-jowled hacendados, your admirers, would never do for me. I preferyour--fear."

  "But I am not afraid of you." She looked straight in his eyes passingout.

  "You will be--some day."