CHAPTER II
THE ADVENTURES BEGIN
A half moon hung over the flat roofs and the air was very still. Walthewand Grahame sat on a balcony surrounding the patio of Don MartinSarmiento's house. The lattice windows that opened onto the balcony hadold but artistic hinges of bronze, and the crumbling hardwood railsshowed traces of skilful carving. Below, a small fountain splashed in amarble basin surrounded by palmettos, and a creeper covered a trelliswith trails of dusky purple. A faint smell of decay mingled with themore pungent odors of garlic and olive oil from the kitchen in thecourtyard, where a clatter was going on, but no sound from outside brokethe silence. Rio Frio was very quiet now.
Cups of black coffee and a plate of fruit stood on a table in front ofthe men, and the senorita Blanca Sarmiento sat in a low chair opposite,with her duenna a few yards away. Blanca was then nineteen, and Walthew,watching her with unobtrusive admiration, wondered how it was that herrelatives had not already arranged a marriage for her, unless, perhaps,her father's political opinions stood in the way. One ran a risk inopposing the Government at Rio Frio. The girl was attractive, with afinely molded figure, the grace of which was displayed by her languidpose. Her hair was dark and coiled in heavy masses on a small,well-shaped head; her lips were full and very red, but her eyes were adeep blue and her skin fairer than that of the Spanish-American womenWalthew hitherto had met. Nor did she use the powder they lavishlyemploy.
With a crimson rose in her hair, and a fine black-lace mantilla drapedabout her shoulders and emphasizing the whiteness of her neck andhalf-covered arms, she reminded Walthew of Carmen. She had something ofthe latter's allurement, but he thought it was an unconscious attractionthat she exercised. The art of the coquette was missing; the girl had acertain dignity, and there was no hint of sensuality in her beauty. Shehad, no doubt, Spanish fire in her blood, but the lad thought it burnedwith a clear and pure flame.
"How do you come to speak English so charmingly?" he asked, in the hopeof satisfying his curiosity about her.
"Do I speak it charmingly?" She laughed prettily. "Well, the explanationis that it was my mother's tongue. She was Irish, you must know."
"Ah!" said Walthew. "Now I understand."
Blanca gave him a glance of languid amusement.
"Your interest is flattering, senor; but what is it you understand?"
"That's an awkward question," Walthew answered, grinning frankly."Still, there's something about you that I haven't noticed inSpanish-American girls, charming as they are."
"I'm afraid you're evasive. Do you know many of my countrywomen?"
"I'd like to know more. But I believe I'm good at reading character. Itis a gift I inherited. My father was never mistaken about a man, and hehas made use of a good many."
Blanca studied him. He had a smooth, fresh face, and looked very young,but while she thought he was direct and perhaps impulsive, somethingsuggested that he was shrewd.
"Women are supposed to be more puzzling," she answered. "Then theSarmientos come from Andalusia, and the Peninsulares are complex people.On the surface, we are often cheerfully inconsequent, but underneaththere's a strain of melancholy. We live in the shadow of a fatalism wegot from the Moors." She glanced at Grahame. "I think you canunderstand."
Grahame made a sign of assent. Sitting thoughtfully silent, his lean butpowerful frame displayed by the thin white duck, and his strong, brownface impassive, he had a somber look. The man was reckless and sparkledwith gay humor now and then, but it was the passing brightness of theNorth.
"Yes," he said, "I understand. But the Irish are optimists, and you areIrish too."
"Then perhaps that's why I keep hopeful. It is not always easy at RioFrio, and life was not very joyous when we were exiles in America."
"You know my country?" Walthew broke in.
"I know your Southern States. We lived there in poverty, wandering upand down. My father is what his friends call a patriot, and his enemiesa dangerous agitator. He had to choose between ruin and acquiescence incorrupt tyranny, and his course was plain. But the seed he had sownsprouted, the dictator was driven out, and we came back to our own.Then, for a time, there was rest and safety, until the new ruler beganto follow the old. He tried to bribe my father, who had helped to puthim in power; but our honor was not for sale, and we had to leave thecapital. There are men who trust my father, and look to him for help....But I think you know something of this."
"Yes," said Grahame. "This afternoon we heard Castillo speak in theplaza."
The girl's eyes flashed angrily.
"Castillo is a fool! He pulls down what others have carefully built up."
"Tries to fire the mine before things are ready?" Walthew suggested. "Apremature explosion's apt to blow up the men who prepared it."
Blanca gave him a keen glance.
"That is what nearly happened this afternoon. I believe you are to betrusted, senores?"
Grahame bowed.
"I am an adventurer, not a patriot, and my partner is out for money, butwe made a bargain with Don Martin and we keep our word."
"Then," said the girl quietly, "Castillo is hiding here."
"In the _casa Sarmiento_! Isn't that dangerous? Won't the President'sfriends suspect?"
"I think they do, but they are afraid of my father's hold on the people;and there is only a handful of troops. When it is late they may make asearch, but Castillo will leave soon. It is possible that you are insome danger."
Walthew laughed.
"That makes things interesting; I've never been in serious danger yet.But I suppose you have Don Martin's permission to be frank with us?"
"You are shrewd," she answered, smiling. "He has some confidence in myjudgment. I spent the years that should have been happiest in povertyand loneliness. Are you surprised that I'm a conspirator? If you valueyour safety, you will beware of me."
"You might prove dangerous to your enemies, but I believe you'd be verystaunch to your friends."
"_Gracias, senor._ I'm sure I can at least hate well."
A mulatto boy came out on to the balcony, and the girl's stout duenna,who had been sitting silent and apparently half asleep, rose andapproached the table.
"Don Martin is disengaged," she said to Blanca; and when the girl waiteda moment Grahame imagined that something had been left for her todecide.
He did not see any sign exchanged, but he thought with some amusementthat he and his companion had passed a test when the duenna said tothem:
"Don Martin would speak with you."
Walthew turned to Blanca, saying in Castilian:
"Until our next meeting! I kiss your hands, senorita."
The girl rose with a grave curtsy and there was a touch of statelinessin her manner.
"May you go in safety, senores! We expect much from you."
The mulatto led them away, and, passing through the house, they foundtheir host and another man sitting by a dim lamp in a room with theshutters carefully closed. Don Martin Sarmiento wore an alpaca jacket, awhite shirt, and a black silk sash round the waist of his ducktrousers. He was dark-haired and sallow, lightly built and thin, but hisexpression was eager and his eyes were penetrating. One could haveimagined that his fiery spirit had worn down the flesh.
The other man was of coarser type. His skin was very dark, his face hotand fleshy, and Grahame noticed that his hands were wet withperspiration. His glance was restless and he had a rather truculent air,though there was something in it that hinted at uneasiness. Grahamethought that while he might show a rash boldness now and then, his nervewas not very good.
"With your permission, I present my comrade, Senor Castillo," said DonMartin. "Should any disaster overtake me, Senor Castillo, or anotherwhom he appoints, will carry out our contract. Our funds are in safehands; the rifles will be paid for."
"They will be delivered," Grahame answered quietly.
"Good! The word of a gentleman is sufficient. And now there is somethingmore to be said. My house is my friend's, particularly i
f he is introuble, but one has higher duties than hospitality."
"Yes," agreed Grahame, turning to Castillo. "The interests of one'scountry come first. There are only three of us, and Don Martin is thehead of an important organization."
"It was not for my personal safety that I came here," Castillo broke inhotly. "I carried papers; lists of names, compromising details. It wasunthinkable that they should fall into the President's hands. They mustbe made safe, and then it does not matter what happens to me--though Imay, perhaps, claim to have been of some help to the cause of freedom."
Grahame saw his host's half-impatient smile.
"And so you gave them to Don Martin!" he remarked dryly.
"He is not watched as I am," Castillo answered. "I am hunted among thesierras, I hide in the fever swamps; but where I pass I leave a sparkthat tyranny cannot trample out. It burns and spreads; by and by therecomes the purging conflagration."
"Yes," said Grahame. "I'm told, however, that your President has a keenscent for smoke, and I don't mean to scatter more sparks than I canhelp." He turned to Don Martin. "Since our business is finished, we canleave Rio Frio in an hour."
"I, too!" exclaimed Castillo. "It is not good for the cause that thesoldiers find me. But there are difficulties; the house may be watched."
Don Martin looked thoughtful, but not disturbed; and Grahame saw that hecould calmly take a risk. Danger and his host obviously were oldacquaintances.
"It is better that you go," he answered. "Sometimes I entertain anAmerican traveler, and Englishmen now and then visit Rio Frio. I do notthink you are suspected yet, and you may be able to help us by drawingoff the watchers' attention when you leave. We will see what can bedone, but it would be safer for Senor Castillo not to come with us."
He took the others to the roof, where he walked to the edge and lookedover the low parapet. A narrow, dark street divided Sarmiento's housefrom the next, but a lattice in a high wall was open, and Grahameimagined that he made out a man's head, which was, however, promptlywithdrawn.
"Once or twice a guest of mine has reached the _calle_ by a rope, butthe President's friends take precautions to-night," Don Martin remarked."There remain the windows on the other side, but Castillo is heavy andfat. I think the door into the plaza would suit him best."
"Wouldn't the small one at the back be safer?" Walthew suggested.
"That will be watched, but it might be of some help if you went thatway. Possibly you would not mind wearing a sombrero and a Spanishcloak."
"Not at all," Grahame assured him. "Still, there are two of us."
"That is an advantage. If one leaves shortly after the other, those whokeep watch and expect a single man will be puzzled."
Walthew chuckled.
"Good! I'd a hankering after adventures, and now it looks as if I'd begratified. But you had better not give us clothes with a name on them."
"In this country, people out of favor with the Government are modestabout their names," Don Martin rejoined.
Ten minutes later Grahame, wearing a wide black hat and a dark Spanishcloak, stepped quietly out into the shadowy street. He had seen that hisautomatic pistol was ready to his hand, having had more than oneexperience of the half-breed's dexterity with the silent knife. For allthat, his hurried, stealthy gait was assumed and not natural to the man,whose heart beat calmly, though he cast quick glances about. The houseswere high, and the street seemed to get narrower and darker as he wenton. Then he imagined he heard soft steps behind him. Walking faster, hestopped at a corner and listened. Somebody was certainly following him.
Grahame's first impulse was to hide in a dark doorway and wait for hispursuer, but he reflected that this would not fall in with his host'splan, and he went on, keeping in the shadow while he made for the hotelat which he had left his mules. There were, he imagined, two menfollowing him now.
A few moments afterward he reached the end of the dark street, and theempty plaza lay before him. The moon shed a faint light upon the stonesand the high, white walls, and Grahame was glad of this. Now, if it wereneedful, he could defend himself: the walk through the shadow had beentrying. Still, he must not hurry, for he never promised more than hemeant to perform, and he knew that Don Martin relied upon his playingout his part. Perhaps he overdid it when he stopped to light acigarette, for, looking up as he dropped the match, he saw two darkfigures stop at the corner he had left. Then there was a low whistle,and one of them disappeared. Grahame smiled, because he knew thatWalthew had divided the attention of the spies. The remaining man,however, walked quickly after him, and when Grahame was half way acrossthe plaza he waited. His pursuer seemed to hesitate, for he came on moreslowly, and stopped a few yards off.
"The American!" he exclaimed.
"English," said Grahame calmly. "The difference is, no doubt, notimportant."
The man looked hard at him, and Grahame carelessly dropped his hand uponhis pistol.
"I am going to the _fonda_; if you are going that way, I would ratheryou walked in front. One is careful at night, my friend."
Though the fellow had a sinister look, he smiled and went off with anapology, and Grahame, going on to the hotel, waited outside untilWalthew came up. The boy looked hot and breathless, but Grahame noticedthat he had a flower in his hand.
"I've been followed," Walthew laughed. "The fellows dropped back soonafter I came into the moonlight. Guess they saw they were after thewrong man."
"Very possibly. It happened to me. I wonder whether Castillo got away?"
They listened, but the town was quiet. One or two citizens crossed theplaza, but no sound that indicated anything unusual going on rose fromthe shadowy streets.
"It seems likely," Walthew replied. "I don't think they could havearrested him without some disturbance. Why didn't they searchSarmiento's house?"
"Perhaps they were afraid of starting a riot that would spread. ThePresident seems to be a capable man, and Don Martin obviously enjoys theconfidence of the citizens. On the whole, I think he deserves it."
"So do I," Walthew agreed. "What do you think of the other fellow?"
"I wouldn't trust him. He's no doubt sincere, but I'm not sure of hisnerve. But where did you get the rose?"
"On the pavement outside the _casa Sarmiento_," Walthew answered withsome embarrassment.
"Mmm! Dropped from a window. Such things happen in Spanish-Americantowns, and it's possible that the President's spies have noted itagainst you. However, you'll be too busy to think of the senorita whenwe get back to the coast." Grahame paused and added: "It might be wiseto remember that you're engaged in a dangerous business, and can't runthe risk of any complications. Neither of us can indulge in philanderinguntil this job's finished."
"I'll take no risk that could get us into difficulties, but that's allI'll promise," Walthew said quietly.
Grahame gave him a steady glance.
"Well, I suppose I must be satisfied."
They entered the hotel, and half an hour later they left Rio Frio androde down the hillside toward the misty swamps that fringed the coast.