CHAPTER XXXIII
THE HERO OF RIO FRIO
Day was breaking when Cliffe saw Rio Frio loom out above low-lying mist.There was no perceptible light in the sky, but the scattered clumps oftrees were growing blacker and more distinct, and the town began tostand out against a dusky background. It had an unsubstantial look, asif it might suddenly fade away, and Cliffe felt that he was doingsomething fantastic and unreal as he watched the blurred forms of hiscompanions move on. To some extent, want of sleep and wearinessaccounted for this, because he had marched all night, but the silencewith which the rebels advanced helped the illusion. A number of themwere barefooted and the raw-hide sandals of the others made no sound inthe thick dust.
Cliffe marched near the head of the straggling battalion, acartridge-belt round his waist and a rifle on his shoulder. His lightclothes were damp and stained with soil. His costly Panama hat hung,crumpled and shapeless, about his head, and he did not differ much inexternal appearance from the men around him. They were a picturesque,undisciplined band, but Cliffe knew that they meant business. Herecognized that there was something humorous about his marching withthem. He belonged to the orderly cities, where he had been treated as aman of importance, but now he was swayed by primitive impulses and hadcast off the habits of civilization.
The rebel leader had promised to make inquiries about Evelyn, but hadlearned nothing. Cliffe imagined that the man, having other things tothink about, had not been very diligent. He held Gomez accountable forthe distress he felt. The rogue had cheated him and stolen his daughter.Cliffe sternly determined that he should pay for it. Gomez, however, wasin Rio Frio and, since he could not be reached by other means, Cliffewas ready to fight his way into the town. The curious thing was thatinstead of finding the prospect disagreeable he was conscious of acertain fierce satisfaction. The commander of the detachment had treatedhim well, but his limited knowledge of Castilian had made it necessarythat he should take his place in the ranks.
The leading files halted, and from their disjointed remarks Cliffegathered that a picket of the enemy's had been surprised by the scouts.He had heard no shots, but he could imagine the dark-skinned men, manyof whom had Indian blood in them, crawling silently through the longgrass with unsheathed knives. It was not a pleasant picture; but theroad was clear.
The light was growing when they went on, moving faster. The need forhaste was obvious. As they were not numerous, they must enter the townwhile darkness covered their approach, and they were late. Anotherdetachment should have met them, but it had not arrived. On the whole,Cliffe did not think their chances good, but that did not daunt him, andhe trudged on with the rest, the dust rolling like a fog about hishead.
After a while the advance split up into two streams of hurrying men,and, going with one body, Cliffe saw the flat-topped houses near ahead.Stumbling among small bushes, and gazing between the shoulders of themen in front, he made out a shadowy opening in the line of buildings. Afew minutes later the clatter of sandals rose from slippery stones,there were blank walls about him, and he was in the town. It was hard tobelieve they had entered unopposed, without a shot being fired, but hesupposed the guard had been surprised and overpowered by friends inside.
The backs of the leading files obstructed his view, but now that theywere moving down a narrow lane the air throbbed with the sound of theiradvance. Rifle slings rattled, feet fell with a rapid beat, and now andthen an order broke through the jingle of steel. Then a shot rang outand the men began to run, two or three falling out here and there, withthe intention, Cliffe supposed, of occupying friendly houses. A littlelater, the advance guard swung out into a wider street, and a group ofmen began tearing up the pavement; it had been loosened beforehand, andthe stones came up easily. Another group were throwing furniture out ofthe houses. They worked frantically, though they were fired at, andCliffe could hear the bullets splash upon the stones.
For the most part, the men were wiry peons, some toiling half naked, butthere were a number who looked like prosperous citizens. The light,however, was dim and they were hard to distinguish as they flitted toand fro with their loads or plied the shovel. A barricade was risingfast, but the alarm had spread. Detached shouts and a confused uproarrolled across the town, the call of bugles joined in, and the sharpclang of the rifles grew more frequent. Cliffe could see no smoke, buthe imagined that the roofs farther on were occupied by the troops Gomezwas no doubt hurrying into action.
The attack had obviously been well timed and arranged with thecooeperation of revolutionaries in the town, but while the rebels hadgained an entrance, they seemed unable to follow up their success, andit remained to be seen if they could hold their ground untilreenforcements arrived. Finding no opportunity for doing anythinguseful, Cliffe sat down on the pavement and lighted a cigarette. He didnot feel the nervousness he had expected, but he was tired and hungry.It was four o'clock on the previous afternoon when he shared theofficers' frugal dinner, and he had eaten nothing since. There was nouse in speculating about what was likely to happen in the next fewhours, but he meant to have a reckoning with Gomez if he came throughalive.
Then, as he watched the blurred figures swarming like ants about thebarricade, he broke into a dry smile, for the situation had anironically humorous side. He had thought himself a sober, business man;and now he was helping a horde of frenzied rebels to overthrow thegovernment he had supported with large sums of money. This was a noveltyin the way of finance. Moreover, it was strange that he should derive aquiet satisfaction from the touch of the rifle balanced across hisknees. He was better used to the scatter-gun, and did not altogetherunderstand the sights, but he was determined to shoot as well as hecould.
An opportunity was soon offered him. Some one gave an order, and aftersome pushing and jostling he squeezed himself between the legs of atable on the top of the barricade. A ragged desperado, who scowledfuriously and used what seemed to be violently abusive language, hadcontested the position with him, and it struck Cliffe as remarkable thathe should have taken so much trouble to secure a post where he might getshot. He was there, however, and thought he could make pretty goodshooting up to a couple hundred yards.
He had got comfortably settled, with his left elbow braced against aledge to support the rifle, when a body of men in white uniform appearedat the other end of the street. An officer with sword drawn marched attheir head, but they did not seem anxious to press forward, or to bemoving in very regular order. The distances were uneven, and some of themen straggled toward the side of the street, where it was darker closeto the walls. Cliffe sympathized with them, although he felt steadierthan he had thought possible.
A rifle flashed on a roof and others answered from the barricade, butonly a thin streak of gray vapor that vanished almost immediately markedthe firing. It looked as if the rebels had obtained good powder. After afew moments Cliffe heard a shrill humming close above his head, andthere was a crash as a man behind him fell backward. Then he felt hisrifle jump and jar his shoulder, though he was not otherwise consciousthat he had fired. He must have pulled the trigger by instinct, but hedid not try to ascertain the result of his shot. He had not come to thatyet.
There was a sharp patter on the front of the barricade and splinterssprang from the table legs. Some one near Cliffe cried out, and thepatter went on. Raising his head cautiously, he saw that a number ofsoldiers were firing from the roofs, while the rest ran steadily up thestreet. They must be stopped. Dropping his chin upon the stock, hestiffened his arms and held his breath as he squeezed the trigger.
After this, he was too busy to retain a clear impression of whathappened. His rifle jumped and jarred until it got hot, his shoulderfelt sore, and he found he must pull round his cartridge-belt becausethe nearer clips were empty. He did not know how the fight was going;the separate advancing figures he gazed at through the notch of the rearsight monopolized his attention, but there was thin smoke and dustabout, and he could not see them well. It seemed curious that they hadnot reached the barricade
, and he felt angry with them for keeping himin suspense. Then the firing gradually slackened and died away.Everything seemed strangely quiet, except that men were running backdown the street in disorder. The rebels had held their ground; theattack had failed.
After a few moments, he noticed that the sun shone down between thehouses and it was getting hot. He felt thirsty, and the glare hurt hiseyes, which smarted with the dust and acrid vapor that hung about thespot. All the soldiers, however, had not gone back; several lay instrange, slack attitudes near the front of the barricade, and a rebelwho sprang down, perhaps with the object of securing fresh cartridges,suddenly dropped. The rest lay close and left the fallen alone. Then atall priest in threadbare cassock and clumsy raw-hide shoes came out ofa house and with the help of two or three others carried the victimsinside. Cliffe heard somebody say that it was Father Agustin.
Soon afterward a man near Cliffe gave him a cigarette, and he smoked it,although his mouth was dry and the tobacco had a bitter taste. The heatwas getting worse and his head began to ache, but he was busy wonderingwhat would happen next. Gomez must have more troops than the handful hehad sent; the rebels could not hold the position against a strong force,and their supports had not arrived. He hoped Gomez had no machine-guns.
Suddenly the attack recommenced. There were more soldiers, and a rattleof firing that broke out farther up the street suggested that therevolutionaries were being attacked in flank. Some of the men seemed tohesitate and began to look behind them, but they got steadier when anofficer called out; and Cliffe understood that a detachment had beensent back to protect their rear. In the meantime, the soldiers in frontwere coming on. They were slouching, untidy fellows, but their brownfaces were savage, and Cliffe knew they meant to get in. It was,however, his business to keep them out, and he fired as fast as he couldload. When the barrel got so hot that he could hardly touch it, hepaused to cool the open breach and anxiously looked about.
The street seemed filled with white figures, but they had opened out,and in the gaps he could see the dazzling stones over which the hot airdanced. There was a gleam of bright steel in the sun, and he noticedthat the walls were scarred. Raw spots marked where the chippedwhitewash had fallen off and the adobe showed through. But there was notime to observe these things; the foremost men were dangerously near.Finding he could now hold his rifle, Cliffe snapped in a cartridge andclosed the breach. Then he spent a few tense minutes. The enemy reachedthe foot of the barrier and climbed up. Rifles flashed from roofs andwindows, streaks of flame rippled along the top of the barricade, andone or two of the defenders, perhaps stung by smarting wounds ormaddened by excitement, leaped down with clubbed weapons anddisappeared. Cliffe kept his place between the table legs and pulledround his cartridge-belt.
The tension could not last. Flesh and blood could not stand it. Heunderstood why the men had leaped down, courting death. He hoped his ownnerve was normally good, but if the struggle was not decided soon, hecould not answer for himself. He must escape from the strain somehow, ifhe had to charge the attackers with an empty rifle.
There was a sudden change. The climbing white figures seemed to meltaway, and though the rifles still clanged from roofs and windows thefiring slackened along the barricade. The troops were going back,running not retiring, and trying to break into houses from which menwith rude weapons thrust them out. It looked as if the inhabitants wereall insurgents now.
Soon the priest reappeared, and Cliffe left his post and sat down wherethere was a strip of shade. He had helped to beat off two attacks, buthe was doubtful about the third. While he rested, a fat, swarthy womanbrought him a cup of _cana_, and he was surprised when he saw how muchof the fiery spirit he had drunk. The woman smiled, and went on to thenext man with the cup.
Cliffe wondered how long he had been fighting, for he found his watchhad stopped; but the sun was not high yet. After all, the reenforcementshe had begun to despair of might arrive in time. While he comfortedhimself with this reflection, some of the other men dug a trench behindthe barricade, and citizens, loading the earth into baskets, carried itoff. Cliffe did not know what this was for, but he supposed the basketswould be used to strengthen defenses somewhere else. It was a long timesince he had handled a spade, but if they needed his help he could dig.Pulling himself up with an effort, he took a tool from a breathless manand set to work.
After a time a citizen appeared with a bundle of papers and a whiteflag. An officer signed him to come forward, and taking the papers fromhim threw them among the men. Cliffe got one, and finding a man whospoke a little English, asked him what the notice meant. The man said itwas a proclamation by Gomez, stating that, as the people had seriousground for dissatisfaction with the President's administration and weredetermined to end it, he must accede to the wish of the leadingcitizens, who had urged him to form a provisional government. Hepromised a general amnesty for past offenses and the prompt redress ofall grievances.
"So the dog turns on his master!" the translator remarked with bitterscorn. "Altiera was a tyrant, but this rogue would be worse!"
The insurgent leader, standing on top of the barricade, read theproclamation in a loud, ironical voice, and when he tore it up with adramatic gesture, the roar of mocking laughter that rang down the streetshowed what all who heard it thought of Gomez's claim. Then people ranout of the houses and pelted the messenger with stones as he hurriedlyretired, until a few shots from a roof cleared the street.
"The dog has bought the soldiers! Altiera should have been his ownpaymaster," the man whom Cliffe had questioned remarked.
For the next half hour everything was quiet, but Cliffe felt uneasy. Onecould not tell what Gomez was doing, but it was plain that he must makea resolute attempt to crush the rebels before he turned his forcesagainst the President. He must have felt reasonably sure of his groundwhen he made his last daring move. As his terms had been scornfullyrejected, the country would soon be devastated by three hostilefactions, which would make Evelyn's danger very grave. Cliffe forgotthat he was thirsty and there was a pain in his left side brought on bywant of food. If help did not come by sunset, his friends would beoverwhelmed by numbers when it was too dark to shoot straight.
Then he saw that they were threatened by a more urgent danger. The endof the street opened into the plaza, which had been deserted. The houseson its opposite side were shuttered, and the sun burned down into thedazzling square, except for a strip of shadow beneath one white wall.Now, however, a body of men appeared, carrying something across theuneven pavement. When they stopped and began to put the separate partstogether, Cliffe saw that it was a machine-gun. He wondered why Gomezhad not made use of it earlier, unless, perhaps, it had formed the maindefense of the _presidio_.
The barrel, thickened by its water jacket, gleamed ominously in front ofthe steel shield as the men got the gun into position; but it wasunthinkable that they should be left to do so undisturbed, and Cliffescrambled back to his post when an order rang out. He felt that he hatedthe venomous machine, which had perhaps been bought with his money.Steadying his rifle, he fired as fast as he could.
Though the smoke was thin, it hung about the rebels' position, making ithard to see, and Cliffe feared their shots were going wide, but after afew moments the barricade trembled, and there was a curious, whirringsound above his head. Dust and splinters of stone were flung up, andlarge flakes fell from the neighboring walls. All this seemed to happenat once, before he was conscious of a measured thudding like a bighammer falling very fast which drowned the reports of the rifles anddominated everything. The flimsy defenses were pierced. Gaps began toopen here and there, and men dropped back into the trench. Then a fierceyell rang across the city, and although Cliffe heard no order the rebelfire slackened. Peering through the vapor, he saw the soldiers werefrantically dragging the gun into a new position; the shield no longerhid the men at the breach, but Cliffe did not shoot. He felt paralyzedas he watched to see what was happening.
The hammering began again, and flashes that look
ed pale in the sunshineleapt about the muzzle of the gun. Soldiers lying down behind it wereusing their rifles, and another detachment hurriedly came up. Cliffe'sview of the plaza was limited. He could not see one side of it, where anattack was evidently being made, but presently a mob of running menswept into sight. A few dropped upon the pavement and began to fire, butthe main body ran straight for the gun, and he noticed with a thrillthat they were led by a light-skinned man. Some of them fell, but therest went on, and the rebels behind the barricade began to shout. Theeagerly expected reenforcements had arrived.
The man with the fair skin was the first to reach the gun. Cliffe sawhis pistol flash; but the struggle did not last. Gomez's men fell backand the others swung round the gun. Then, as flame blazed from itsmuzzle, a triumphant yell rose from the barricade, and Cliffe, springingup on the table, waved his hat and shouted with the rest. Grahame, withhis handful of peons, had saved the day.
In a few seconds Cliffe felt dizzy. His head was unsteady, his kneesseemed weak, and as he tried to get down he lost his balance. Fallingfrom the top of the barricade, he plunged heavily into the trench, wherehis senses left him.
It was some time afterward when he came to himself, and, looking roundin a half-dazed manner, wondered where he was. The big room in which helay was shadowy and cool, and he did not feel much the worse except thathis head ached and his eyes were dazzled. A tumult seemed to be going onoutside, but the room was quiet, and a girl in a white dress sat nearby. He thought he ought to know her, although he could not see her faceuntil she heard him move and came toward him.
"Evelyn!" he gasped.
"Yes," she answered, smiling. "How do you feel?"
"Dizzy," said Cliffe. "But this is Rio Frio, isn't it? How did you gethere?"
"You mustn't talk," she said firmly, and he saw that she had a glass inher hand. "Drink this and go to sleep again."
Cliffe did not mean to go to sleep, although he drained the glassbecause he was thirsty. There was much he wanted to know; but he foundit difficult to talk, and Evelyn would not answer. After a futile effortto shake it off, he succumbed to the drowsiness that was overpoweringhim.
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE COMING DAWN
It was getting dark when Cliffe wakened. The windows were open, and aflickering red glow shone into the room. Footsteps and voices rose fromthe street below, as if the city were astir, but this did not interesthim much. Evelyn was standing near, and a man whom he could not see wellsat in the shadow.
"You must have something to tell me," Cliffe said to the girl. "We seemto be in safe quarters; but how did we get here?"
Evelyn knelt down beside his couch and put her hand on his hot forehead.It felt pleasantly cool, and Cliffe lay still with a sigh ofsatisfaction.
"Father Agustin brought you in here several hours ago," she explained;"but that was before I arrived. I was worried, but the doctor says weneedn't be alarmed."
"That's a sure thing," Cliffe replied. "I'm feeling pretty well, butthirsty. What's the matter with me, anyhow?"
"Exhaustion, and perhaps slight sunstroke and shock. You must have had abad fall, because you are bruised."
"I certainly fell, right down to the bottom of the trench; but that'snot what I want to talk about. It is a big relief to see you safe, butwhere have you been?"
"It will take some time to tell." Evelyn bent closer over him as shebegan an account of her adventures in a low voice, and Cliffe dullyimagined that she did not want the other occupant of the room to hear.The fellow was no doubt a doctor.
"I had no difficulty after I reached Don Martin's camp," she finished."His daughter, the pretty girl we saw at the International, was with himmost of the time, and afterward her duenna treated me very well. Whenthe rebels advanced on Rio Frio, Don Martin thought it safer for Blancaand me to go with them, but they left us outside with a guard until thetown was taken. Then I was told that a priest had picked you up badlyhurt and they brought me here. The house belongs to a merchant who tooksome part in the revolution. You can imagine how anxious I was untilFather Agustin sent a doctor."
"I hate to think of the danger you were in," he said; "though you seemto have shown surprising grit."
Evelyn laughed and patted his shoulder.
"Then I must have inherited it. I'm told that you and the others heldthe barricade stubbornly for two hours. Don Martin admits that he mightnot have taken Rio Frio if it hadn't been for the stand you made."
"He wouldn't have taken it, and there'd have been very few of us left,if Grahame hadn't rushed the gun. But I've something else to thank himfor. It seems from your story that he got himself into trouble by goingto your help."
"Yes," said Evelyn quietly. "You can thank him now, if you like." Shebeckoned the man across the room. "Come and join us, dear."
The red glow from outside fell on her face as Cliffe gave her asurprised look, and he noticed that she blushed. Then he held out hishand to Grahame, because he thought he understood.
"It seems I owe you a good deal," he said.
"Well," Grahame returned, smiling, "I suppose my intentions were good,but I didn't accomplish much, and my partner had to run a serious riskto get me out of trouble."
"The way you rushed that gun was great."
"It might have been better if we had taken the fellows in the rear, butwe were told that they were making things hot for you, and there was notime to get round."
"When we met in Havana I'd no idea that you were up against me," Cliffesaid with a laugh. "Curious, isn't it, that we should make friends whileI was backing the President and you the rebels!" He turned to thewindow. "What's the fire outside?"
"The _presidio_ burning. Gomez used it as headquarters and made his laststand there."
"Ah! Then your friends have finished him?"
Grahame nodded.
"A rather grim business. He had much to answer for, but although halfhis troops deserted, he made a gallant end."
"Where's your partner, and what are the rebel bosses doing now?"
"Walthew was patrolling the streets with a company of brigands when Ilast saw him; he promised to meet me here as soon as he was relieved.The others are busy forming a provisional government. Don Martin saidhe'd call on you soon."
"I owe him some thanks, but I mean to cut my connection with thiscountry's affairs. No more political speculations; I've had enough."
Grahame laughed.
"I can imagine that. These people are an unstable lot, and it's notcertain that Don Martin, who's much the best man they have, will be thenext president.... But we were told to keep you quiet, and Evelyn istired. She had to follow the rebels' march all night, but wouldn't restuntil she was satisfied about you."
"How long have you called her Evelyn?" Cliffe demanded, looking hard athim.
"He will tell you about that to-morrow," Evelyn answered with a blush."You must lie still and go to sleep again if you can, but if you givetrouble, we'll leave the senora Rocas, who is deaf and very clumsy, tolook after you."
When Cliffe fell asleep, Evelyn and Grahame went out on to the balconyand watched the moonlight creep across the town. There were lights inthe cafes, and excited citizens gathered in the streets. Now and then afew angry cries broke out, but for the most part the scraps of news thatspread among the crowd were received with exultant cheers.
The next day Cliffe was much better, and after breakfast Grahame foundhim sitting in the shady _patio_. He listened to the younger manquietly, and then held out his hand.
"I'm glad I can agree," he said. "I'll miss her, but I feel that she'llbe safe with you."
Ten minutes later Grahame met Walthew, who looked disturbed andindignant.
"What are they doing at the council?" Grahame asked.
"Fooling!" said Walthew fiercely. "Seems to me they're mad! Last nightthey were solid for Don Martin, but now a faction that means to makeCastillo president is gaining ground."
"A number of them must know he gave their plans away to save his skin."
&nbs
p; "They know, all right. One fellow urged that Castillo did so as a matterof policy, because he meant to force Altiera's hand. Guess the crowd whowant him would believe anything that suited them!"
"Well," Grahame said thoughtfully, "I've had my doubts whether they'dget on with Don Martin. His code of political morality's rather high;they want a man who won't expect too much. I dare say they feel thatafter turning out Altiera they're entitled to a few opportunities forgraft themselves and for finding their friends official jobs. I'm sorryfor Sarmiento, though. What does he say?"
"Haven't seen him this morning. Father Agustin believes he'll respectthe wish of the majority, although the fellows who did the fighting areall on his side."
Grahame went to look for Evelyn, and it was noon when Walthew met himagain.
"After a glorious row, they've chosen Castillo--and I wish them joy ofhim!" he said. "Don Martin withdraws his claim, and wants to leaveto-morrow. He's going to live in Cuba, and if Cliffe's fit to travel, wemay as well all clear out. I'm sick of this place. Anyway, I'd like totake Blanca and her father across in the _Enchantress_."
"There will be no difficulty about that. I think we can sell the boat atNew Orleans. Have you made any plans?"
"Sure. I'm going to marry Blanca at Havana and then take her home. Sheseemed to think she ought to stay with her father, but Don Martinconvinced her this wasn't necessary. Guess it hurt him, but he told methe girl had had a pretty rough time wandering about in exile, and hemeans to give her a chance of a brighter life."
"Why did you fix on Havana for the wedding?"
Walthew laughed.
"My people will see there is no use in kicking when I take my wife home;and they've only to give Blanca a fair show to get fond of her. Thenthere are a number of Americans in Havana, and I can get the thingproperly registered and fixed up by our consul. Don Martin agreed." Hepaused a minute and added: "Don Martin's going to address the citizensin the plaza at six o'clock, and I think he'd like you and Cliffe to bethere."
Grahame promised to ask Cliffe; and soon after dinner he found that aplace had been kept for his party on the broad steps of the church ofSan Sebastian. The air was cooling and dusk was near, but the light hadnot gone, and the square was packed with an expectant crowd, exceptwhere a space was kept. The lower steps were occupied by officials andleading citizens, but the two highest were empty.
For a few minutes there was deep silence, and nobody moved in thecrowded plaza. Then a murmur rose as the leather curtain across thedoor was drawn back and Don Martin came out, with three priests in theirrobes behind him. He stood bareheaded on the second step, very straightand soldierlike, but plainly dressed in white, with no sash or badge ofoffice; the priests standing above, with Father Agustin's tall figure inthe middle. As he turned his face toward the crowd a great shout wentup:
"_Viva Sarmiento! Viva el libertador!_"
Don Martin bowed, but did not speak; and a bugle call rang across thesquare and was followed by a measured tramp of feet. Men marching inloose fours swung out of a shadowy opening and advanced upon the church.A red sash round the waist with the ends left hanging loose was the onlyuniform they wore, and Grahame felt a curious, emotional quiver as herecognized the detachment he had led. He understood that the best ofthem had been enrolled for a time as a national guard. Their brown faceswere impassive as they filled the open space, but after they swung intodouble line, instead of the conventional salute, they waved their raggedhats, and a roar broke out:
"_Viva Sarmiento! Viva el maestro!_"
Then some of the group looked anxious, and there was a stir in the crowdas an officer approached the steps. He had his pistol drawn, but helowered it, and stood opposite Don Martin with his hat off.
"Your comrades salute you, senor," he said. "You have led us to victory,and if you have fresh orders for us, we obey you still."
He spoke clearly, in a meaning tone, and there was an applauding murmurfrom the crowd that gathered strength and filled the square. Everybodyseemed to feel a sudden tension, and Grahame imagined that thesuperseded leader had only to give the signal for a counter revolutionto begin; but he saw that Father Agustin wore a quiet smile.
Don Martin raised his hand.
"I thank you, and I know your loyalty; but it belongs to your country,of which I am a private citizen. I can give no orders, but I ask you toserve the new government as well as you have served me."
The officer went back to his men with a moody air, and Don Martin turnedto the crowd.
"In a national crisis, it is a citizen's duty to devote himself to hiscountry's service, and this I have done; but it is a duty that carriesno claim for reward. Many of you have helped me with effort and money,and some have given their lives; but the rough work is done and thecrisis is past. Now that I am no longer needed, I lay down my authority,and it is better in several ways that I should go. But you who remainhave still much to do. It is harder to build than to pull down, and yourtask is to establish justice, freedom, and prosperity. The bestfoundation is obedience to the new leader the nation has chosen."
He moved back into the gloom, for darkness was gathering fast, and aftera few words of grave advice Father Agustin blessed the people. Then thenational guard marched away and the crowd broke up; but Grahame and hisparty waited, with Don Martin standing behind them by the door of thechurch. A smell of incense floated out, and dim lights twinkled in thebuilding. No one spoke until the measured tramp of feet had died away.
Then Grahame put his hand on Don Martin's arm.
"The sacrifice you have made to-night must have cost you something," hesaid in a sympathetic voice.
"It is seldom easy to do what is best," Don Martin answered, smilingsadly. "And now, with your permission, I should like to be alone. Wewill start for Valverde early to-morrow."
They left him in the deserted plaza.
"What a man that is!" Cliffe remarked. "If they were all like him inCongress, there'd be a big improvement in our politics--and I guessyou'd have some use for a few of his kind at Westminster."
"That's true," Grahame agreed. "I can't say that such men are scarce,but as a rule they don't come to the top. They do what's demanded ofthem, and then quietly fall out of sight."
* * * * *
The next morning they set out for the coast. The _Enchantress_ was inthe roadstead when they reached the port, and they went straight onboard. Macallister met them at the gangway, and there was deep feelingin his face as he shook hands with his comrades; but a few moments laterhe surveyed the group with a grin. Walthew had helped Evelyn on board,and Blanca stood near Grahame.
"I'm thinking ye're no' sorted right," he said; and when Evelyn blushedhe resumed with a chuckle: "Ye need no' tell me; I kenned what wouldhappen, and I wish ye all happiness."
He turned with a flourish to Don Martin.
"We'd ha' dressed the ship for ye, senor, only our flags are a bitragged, and I couldna' find the one ye have served so weel."
"Thank you," said Don Martin. "We hope our flag will be better knownbefore long."
Macallister hurried below to raise steam, but it was some time beforethey got a working pressure, and dusk was falling when the windlasshauled in the rattling cable and Grahame rang the telegraph. Thepropeller churned the phosphorescent sea, the _Enchantress_ forgedahead, and the white town began to fade into the haze astern.
Don Martin leaned upon the taffrail, watching the dim littoral, until itmelted from his sight and only the black cordillera in the backgroundcut against the sky. Then he joined the group about the deck-house andlighted a cigarette.
"Another act finished and the curtain dropped, but one looks forward tothe next with confidence," he said.
"It might have opened better if you had kept the leading part," Grahamereplied, and added meaningly: "You could have kept it."
"That is possible," Don Martin agreed. "But it might not have been wise.I fought for peace, and I was satisfied when it was secured."
"Still, I do
n't see why you left," Cliffe interposed. "Is Castillostrong enough to rule your people?"
"We must give him an opportunity; if he has some failings, hisintentions are good. No rule is free from faults, and when it isautocratic a possible claimant for the chief post is a danger to theState. All who love change and turmoil fix their hopes on him."
"Do you mean to live in Cuba?"
"Yes. I have some skill in organization and a little money left, andfriends wish me to help in the development of a new sugar estate. It isnot very far from Valverde, and one hears what is going on." Don Martinpaused and spread out his hands. "If all goes well, I shall grow sugar,but if it happens that my country needs me I will go back again."
Walthew changed the subject, and presently Evelyn and Grahame strolledforward to the bow. There was moonlight on the water, and the_Enchantress_ steamed smoothly up the glittering track while the foamthat curled about her stern shone with phosphorescent flame.
"I wonder where that path is leading us?" Evelyn said.
"Toward the dawn," Grahame answered. "There's glamour in moonlight andmystery in the dark, but we're moving on to meet the sunshine."
THE END
Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors present in theoriginal edition have been corrected.
In Chapter VII, "creeeping past invisible dangers" was changed to"creeping past invisible dangers".
In Chapter XV, "ouside this there was only a dim glimmer of foam" waschanged to "outside this there was only a dim glimmer of foam".
Hyphenation of the words "deckhouse", "deckload", "rawhide", and"sternsheets", and the use of an accent in the word "Bolivar", wasinconsistent in the original text.
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