UNEASY and startled, Gale listened and, hearing nothing, wondered if
Mercedes's fears had not worked upon her imagination. He felt a
trembling seize her, and he held her hands tightly.
"You were mistaken, I guess," he whispered.
"No, no, senor."
Dick turned his ear to the soft wind. Presently he heard, or imagined
he heard, low beats. Like the first faint, far-off beats of a drumming
grouse, they recalled to him the Illinois forests of his boyhood. In a
moment he was certain the sounds were the padlike steps of hoofs in
yielding sand. The regular tramp was not that of grazing horses.
On the instant, made cautious and stealthy by alarm, Gale drew Mercedes
deeper into the gloom of the shrubbery. Sharp pricks from thorns
warned him that he was pressing into a cactus growth, and he protected
Mercedes as best he could. She was shaking as one with a severe chill.
She breathed with little hurried pants and leaned upon him almost in
collapse. Gale ground his teeth in helpless rage at the girl's fate.
If she had not been beautiful she might still have been free and happy
in her home. What a strange world to live in--how unfair was fate!
The sounds of hoofbeats grew louder. Gale made out a dark moving mass
against a background of dull gray. There was a line of horses. He
could not discern whether or not all the horses carried riders. The
murmur of a voice struck his ear--then a low laugh. It made him
tingle, for it sounded American. Eagerly he listened. There was an
interval when only the hoofbeats could be heard.
"It shore was, Laddy, it shore was," came a voice out of the darkness.
"Rough house! Laddy, since wire fences drove us out of Texas we ain't
seen the like of that. An' we never had such a call."
"Call? It was a burnin' roast," replied another voice. "I felt low
down. He vamoosed some sudden, an' I hope he an' his friends shook the
dust of Casita. That's a rotten town Jim."
Gale jumped up in joy. What luck! The speakers were none other than
the two cowboys whom he had accosted in the Mexican hotel.
"Hold on, fellows," he called out, and strode into the road.
The horses snorted and stamped. Then followed swift rustling sounds--a
clinking of spurs, then silence. The figures loomed clearer in the
gloom.. Gale saw five or six horses, two with riders, and one other, at
least, carrying a pack. When Gale got within fifteen feet of the group
the foremost horseman said:
"I reckon that's close enough, stranger."
Something in the cowboy's hand glinted darkly bright in the starlight.
"You'd recognize me, if it wasn't so dark," replied Gale, halting. "I
spoke to you a little while ago--in the saloon back there."
"Come over an' let's see you," said the cowboy curtly.
Gale advanced till he was close to the horse. The cowboy leaned over
the saddle and peered into Gale's face. Then, without a word, he
sheathed the gun and held out his hand. Gale met a grip of steel that
warmed his blood. The other cowboy got off his nervous, spirited horse
and threw the bridle. He, too, peered closely into Gale's face.
"My name's Ladd," he said. "Reckon I'm some glad to meet you again."
Gale felt another grip as hard and strong as the other had been. He
realized he had found friends who belonged to a class of men whom he
had despaired of ever knowing.
"Gale--Dick Gale is my name," he began, swiftly. "I dropped into
Casita to-night hardly knowing where I was. A boy took me to that
hotel. There I met an old friend whom I had not seen for years. He
belongs to the cavalry stationed here. He had befriended a Spanish
girl--fallen in love with her. Rojas had killed this girl's
father--tried to abduct her.... You know what took place at the hotel.
Gentlemen, if it's ever possible, I'll show you how I appreciate what
you did for me there. I got away, found my friend with the girl. We
hurried out here beyond the edge of town. Then Thorne had to make a
break for camp. We heard bugle calls, shots, and he was away without
leave. That left the girl with me. I don't know what to do. Thorne
swears Casita is no place for Mercedes at night."
"The girl ain't no peon, no common Greaser?" interrupted Ladd.
"No. Her name is Castaneda. She belongs to an old Spanish family,
once rich and influential."
"Reckoned as much," replied the cowboy. "There's more than Rojas's
wantin' to kidnap a pretty girl. Shore he does that every day or so.
Must be somethin' political or feelin' against class. Well, Casita
ain't no place for your friend's girl at night or day, or any time.
Shore, there's Americans who'd take her in an' fight for her, if
necessary. But it ain't wise to risk that. Lash, what do you say?"
"It's been gettin' hotter round this Greaser corral for some weeks,"
replied the other cowboy. "If that two-bit of a garrison surrenders,
there's no tellin' what'll happen. Orozco is headin' west from Agua
Prieta with his guerrillas. Campo is burnin' bridges an' tearin' up
the railroad south of Nogales. Then there's all these bandits callin'
themselves revolutionists just for an excuse to steal, burn, kill, an'
ride off with women. It's plain facts, Laddy, an' bein' across the
U.S. line a few inches or so don't make no hell of a difference. My
advice is, don't let Miss Castaneda ever set foot in Casita again."
"Looks like you've shore spoke sense," said Ladd. "I reckon, Gale, you
an' the girl ought to come with us. Casita shore would be a little
warm for us to-morrow. We didn't kill anybody, but I shot a Greaser's
arm off, an' Lash strained friendly relations by destroyin' property.
We know people who'll take care of the senorita till your friend can
come for her."
Dick warmly spoke his gratefulness, and, inexpressibly relieved and
happy for Mercedes, he went toward the clump of cactus where he had
left her. She stood erect, waiting, and, dark as it was, he could tell
she had lost the terror that had so shaken her.
"Senor Gale, you are my good angel," she said, tremulously.
"I've been lucky to fall in with these men, and I'm glad with all my
heart," he replied. "Come."
He led her into the road up to the cowboys, who now stood bareheaded in
the starlight. They seemed shy, and Lash was silent while Ladd made
embarrassed, unintelligible reply to Mercedes's thanks.
There were five horses--two saddled, two packed, and the remaining one
carried only a blanket. Ladd shortened the stirrups on his mount, and
helped Mercedes up into the saddle. From the way she settled herself
and took the few restive prances of the mettlesome horse Gale judged
that she could ride. Lash urged Gale to take his horse. But this Gale
refused to do.
"I'll walk," he said. "I'm used to walking. I know cowboys are not."
They tried again to persuade him, without avail. Then Ladd started
off, riding bareback. Mercedes fell in behind, with Gale walking
beside her. The two pack animals came next, and Lash brought up the
rear.
Once started with protection assured for the girl and a real objective
point in view, Gale relaxed from the tense strain he had been laboring
under. How glad he would have been to acquaint Thorne with their good
fortune! Later, of course, there would be some way to get word to the
cavalryman. But till then what torments his friend would suffer!
It seemed to Dick that a very long time had elapsed since he stepped
off the train; and one by one he went over every detail of incident
which had occurred between that arrival and the present moment.
Strange as the facts were, he had no doubts. He realized that before
that night he had never known the deeps of wrath undisturbed in him; he
had never conceived even a passing idea that it was possible for him to
try to kill a man. His right hand was swollen stiff, so sore that he
could scarcely close it. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding, and
ached with a sharp pain. Considering the thickness of his heavy glove,
Gale was of the opinion that so to bruise his hand he must have struck
Rojas a powerful blow. He remembered that for him to give or take a
blow had been nothing. This blow to Rojas, however, had been a
different matter. The hot wrath which had been his motive was not
puzzling; but the effect on him after he had cooled off, a subtle
difference, something puzzled and eluded him. The more it baffled him
the more he pondered. All those wandering months of his had been
filled with dissatisfaction, yet he had been too apathetic to
understand himself. So he had not been much of a person to try.
Perhaps it had not been the blow to Rojas any more than other things
that had wrought some change in him.
His meeting with Thorne; the wonderful black eyes of a Spanish girl;
her appeal to him; the hate inspired by Rojas, and the rush, the blow,
the action; sight of Thorne and Mercedes hurrying safely away; the
girl's hand pressing his to her heaving breast; the sweet fire of her
kiss; the fact of her being alone with him, dependent upon him--all
these things Gale turned over and over in his mind, only to fail of any
definite conclusion as to which had affected him so remarkably, or to
tell what had really happened to him.
Had he fallen in love with Thorne's sweetheart? The idea came in a
flash. Was he, all in an instant, and by one of those incomprehensible
reversals of character, jealous of his friend? Dick was almost afraid
to look up at Mercedes. Still he forced himself to do so, and as it
chanced Mercedes was looking down at him. Somehow the light was
better, and he clearly saw her white face, her black and starry eyes,
her perfect mouth. With a quick, graceful impulsiveness she put her
hand upon his shoulder. Like her appearance, the action was new,
strange, striking to Gale; but it brought home suddenly to him the
nature of gratitude and affection in a girl of her blood. It was sweet
and sisterly. He knew then that he had not fallen in love with her.
The feeling that was akin to jealousy seemed to be of the beautiful
something for which Mercedes stood in Thorne's life. Gale then grasped
the bewildering possibilities, the infinite wonder of what a girl could
mean to a man.
The other haunting intimations of change seemed to be elusively blended
with sensations--the heat and thrill of action, the sense of something
done and more to do, the utter vanishing of an old weary hunt for he
knew not what. Maybe it had been a hunt for work, for energy, for
spirit, for love, for his real self. Whatever it might be, there
appeared to be now some hope of finding it.
The desert began to lighten. Gray openings in the border of shrubby
growths changed to paler hue. The road could be seen some rods ahead,
and it had become a stony descent down, steadily down. Dark, ridged
backs of mountains bounded the horizon, and all seemed near at hand,
hemming in the plain. In the east a white glow grew brighter and
brighter, reaching up to a line of cloud, defined sharply below by a
rugged notched range. Presently a silver circle rose behind the black
mountain, and the gloom of the desert underwent a transformation. From
a gray mantle it changed to a transparent haze. The moon was rising.
"Senor I am cold," said Mercedes.
Dick had been carrying his coat upon his arm. He had felt warm, even
hot, and had imagined that the steady walk had occasioned it. But his
skin was cool. The heat came from an inward burning. He stopped the
horse and raised the coat up, and helped Mercedes put it on.
"I should have thought of you," he said. "But I seemed to feel warm...
The coat's a little large; we might wrap it round you twice."
Mercedes smiled and lightly thanked him in Spanish. The flash of mood
was in direct contrast to the appealing, passionate, and tragic states
in which he had successively viewed her; and it gave him a vivid
impression of what vivacity and charm she might possess under happy
conditions. He was about to start when he observed that Ladd had
halted and was peering ahead in evident caution. Mercedes' horse began
to stamp impatiently, raised his ears and head, and acted as if he was
about to neigh.
A warning "hist!" from Ladd bade Dick to put a quieting hand on the
horse. Lash came noiselessly forward to join his companion. The two
then listened and watched.
An uneasy yet thrilling stir ran through Gale's veins. This scene was
not fancy. These men of the ranges had heard or seen or scented
danger. It was all real, as tangible and sure as the touch of
Mercedes's hand upon his arm. Probably for her the night had terrors
beyond Gale's power to comprehend. He looked down into the desert, and
would have felt no surprise at anything hidden away among the bristling
cactus, the dark, winding arroyos, the shadowed rocks with their
moonlit tips, the ragged plain leading to the black bold mountains.
The wind appeared to blow softly, with an almost imperceptible moan,
over the desert. That was a new sound to Gale. But he heard nothing
more.
Presently Lash went to the rear and Ladd started ahead. The progress
now, however, was considerably slower, not owing to a road--for that
became better--but probably owing to caution exercised by the cowboy
guide. At the end of a half hour this marked deliberation changed, and
the horses followed Ladd's at a gait that put Gale to his best
walking-paces.
Meanwhile the moon soared high above the black corrugated peaks. The
gray, the gloom, the shadow whitened. The clearing of the dark
foreground appeared to lift a distant veil and show endless aisles of
desert reaching down between dim horizon-bounding ranges.
Gale gazed abroad, knowing that as this night was the first time for
him to awake to consciousness of a vague, wonderful other self, so it
was one wherein he began to be aware of an encroaching presence of
physical things--the immensity of the star-studded sky, the soaring
moon, the bleak, mysterious mountains, and limitless slope, and plain,
and ridge, and valley. These things in all their magnificence had not
been unnoticed by him before; only now they spoke a different meaning.
A voice that he had never heard called him to see, to feel the vast
hard externals of heaven and earth, all that represented the open, the
free, silence and solitude and space.
Once more his thoughts, like his steps, were halted by Ladd's actions.
The cowboy reined in his horse, listened a moment, then swung down out
of the saddle. He raised a cautioning hand to the others, then slipped
into the gloom and disappeared. Gale marked that the halt had been
made in a ridged and cut-up pass between low mesas. He could see the
columns of cactus standing out black against the moon-white sky. The
horses were evidently tiring, for they showed no impatience. Gale
heard their panting breaths, and also the bark of some animal--a dog or
a coyote. It sounded like a dog, and this led Gale to wonder if there
was any house near at hand. To the right, up under the ledges some
distance away, stood two square black objects, too uniform, he thought,
to be rocks. While he was peering at them, uncertain what to think,
the shrill whistle of a horse pealed out, to be followed by the
rattling of hoofs on hard stone. Then a dog barked. At the same
moment that Ladd hurriedly appeared in the road a light shone out and
danced before one of the square black objects.
"Keep close an' don't make no noise," he whispered, and led his horse
at right angles off the road.
Gale followed, leading Mercedes's horse. As he turned he observed that
Lash also had dismounted.
To keep closely at Ladd's heels without brushing the cactus or
stumbling over rocks and depressions was a task Gale found impossible.
After he had been stabbed several times by the bayonetlike spikes,
which seemed invisible, the matter of caution became equally one of
self-preservation. Both the cowboys, Dick had observed, wore leather
chaps. It was no easy matter to lead a spirited horse through the
dark, winding lanes walled by thorns. Mercedes horse often balked and
had to be coaxed and carefully guided. Dick concluded that Ladd was
making a wide detour. The position of certain stars grown familiar
during the march veered round from one side to another. Dick saw that
the travel was fast, but by no means noiseless. The pack animals at
times crashed and ripped through the narrow places. It seemed to Gale
that any one within a mile could have heard these sounds. From the
tops of knolls or ridges he looked back, trying to locate the mesas
where the light had danced and the dog had barked alarm. He could not
distinguish these two rocky eminences from among many rising in the
background.
Presently Ladd let out into a wider lane that appeared to run straight.
The cowboy mounted his horse, and this fact convinced Gale that they
had circled back to the road. The march proceeded then once more at a
good, steady, silent walk. When Dick consulted his watch he was amazed
to see that the hour was still early. How much had happened in little
time! He now began to be aware that the night was growing colder; and,
strange to him, he felt something damp that in a country he knew he
would have recognized as dew. He had not been aware there was dew on
the desert. The wind blew stronger, the stars shone whiter, the sky
grew darker, and the moon climbed toward the zenith. The road
stretched level for miles, then crossed arroyos and ridges, wound
between mounds of broken ruined rock, found a level again, and then
began a long ascent. Dick asked Mercedes if she was cold, and she
answered that she was, speaking especially of her feet, which were
growing numb. Then she asked to be helped down to walk awhile. At
first she was cold and lame, and accepted the helping hand Dick
proffered. After a little, however, she recovered and went on without
assistance. Dick could scarcely believe his eyes, as from time to time
he stole a sidelong glance at this silent girl, who walked with lithe
and rapid stride. She was wrapped in his long coat, yet it did not
hide her slender grace. He could not see her face, which was concealed
by the black mantle.
A low-spoken word from Ladd recalled Gale to the question of
surroundings and of possible dangers. Ladd had halted a few yards
ahead. They had reached the summit of what was evidently a high ridge
which sloped with much greater steepness on the far side. It was only
after a few more forward steps, however, that Dick could see down the
slope. Then full in view flashed a bright campfire around which
clustered a group of dark figures. They were encamped in a wide
arroyo, where horses could be seen grazing in black patches of grass
between clusters of trees. A second look at the campers told Gale they
were Mexicans. At this moment Lash came forward to join Ladd, and the
two spent a long, uninterrupted moment studying the arroyo. A hoarse
laugh, faint yet distinct, floated up on the cool wind.
"Well, Laddy, what're you makin' of that outfit?" inquired Lash,
speaking softly.
"Same as any of them raider outfits," replied Ladd. "They're across
the line for beef. But they'll run off any good stock. As hoss
thieves these rebels have got 'em all beat. That outfit is waitin'
till it's late. There's a ranch up the arroyo."
Gale heard the first speaker curse under his breath.
"Sure, I feel the same," said Ladd. "But we've got a girl an' the
young man to look after, not to mention our pack outfit. An' we're
huntin' for a job, not a fight, old hoss. Keep on your chaps!"
"Nothin' to it but head south for the Rio Forlorn."
"You're talkin' sense now, Jim. I wish we'd headed that way long ago.
But it ain't strange I'd want to travel away from the border, thinkin'
of the girl. Jim, we can't go round this Greaser outfit an' strike the
road again. Too rough. So we'll have to give up gettin' to San
Felipe."
"Perhaps it's just as well, Laddy. Rio Forlorn is on the border line,
but it's country where these rebels ain't been yet."
"Wait till they learn of the oasis an' Beldin's hosses!" exclaimed
Laddy. "I'm not anticipatin' peace anywhere along the border, Jim.
But we can't go ahead; we can't go back."
"What'll we do, Laddy? It's a hike to Beldin's ranch. An' if we get
there in daylight some Greaser will see the girl before Beldin' can
hide her. It'll get talked about. The news'll travel to Casita like
sage balls before the wind."
"Shore we won't ride into Rio Forlorn in the daytime. Let's slip the
packs, Jim. We can hid them off in the cactus an' come back after
them. With the young man ridin' we--"
The whispering was interrupted by a loud ringing neigh that whistled up
from the arroyo. One of the horses had scented the travelers on the
ridge top. The indifference of the Mexicans changed to attention.
Ladd and Lash turned back and led the horses into the first opening on
the south side of the road. There was nothing more said at the moment,
and manifestly the cowboys were in a hurry. Gale had to run in the
open places to keep up. When they did stop it was welcome to Gale, for
he had begun to fall behind.
The packs were slipped, securely tied and hidden in a mesquite clump.
Ladd strapped a blanket around one of the horses. His next move was to
take off his chaps.
"Gale, you're wearin' boots, an' by liftin' your feet you can beat the
cactus," he whispered. "But the--the--Miss Castaneda, she'll be torn
all to pieces unless she puts these on. Please tell her--an' hurry."
Dick took the chaps, and, going up to Mercedes, he explained the
situation. She laughed, evidently at his embarrassed earnestness, and
slipped out of the saddle.
"Senor, chapparejos and I are not strangers," she said.
Deftly and promptly she equipped herself, and then Gale helped her into
the saddle, called to her horse, and started off. Lash directed Gale
to mount the other saddled horse and go next.
Dick had not ridden a hundred yards behind the trotting leaders before
he had sundry painful encounters with reaching cactus arms. The horse
missed these by a narrow margin. Dick's knees appeared to be in line,
and it became necessary for him to lift them high and let his boots
take the onslaught of the spikes. He was at home in the saddle, and
the accomplishment was about the only one he possessed that had been of
any advantage during his sojourn in the West.
Ladd pursued a zigzag course southward across the desert, trotting down
the aisles, cantering in wide, bare patches, walking through the clumps
of cacti. The desert seemed all of a sameness to Dick--a wilderness of
rocks and jagged growths hemmed in by lowering ranges, always looking
close, yet never growing any nearer. The moon slanted back toward the
west, losing its white radiance, and the gloom of the earlier evening
began to creep into the washes and to darken under the mesas. By and
by Ladd entered an arroyo, and here the travelers turned and twisted
with the meanderings of a dry stream bed. At the head of a canyon they
had to take once more to the rougher ground. Always it led down,
always it grew rougher, more rolling, with wider bare spaces, always
the black ranges loomed close.
Gale became chilled to the bone, and his clothes were damp and cold.
His knees smarted from the wounds of the poisoned thorns, and his right
hand was either swollen stiff or too numb to move. Moreover, he was
tiring. The excitement, the long walk, the miles on miles of jolting
trot--these had wearied him. Mercedes must be made of steel, he
thought, to stand all that she had been subjected to and yet, when the
stars were paling and dawn perhaps not far away, stay in the saddle.
So Dick Gale rode on, drowsier for each mile, and more and more giving
the horse a choice of ground. Sometimes a prod from a murderous spine
roused Dick. A grayness had blotted out the waning moon in the west
and the clear, dark, starry sky overhead. Once when Gale, thinking to
fight his weariness, raised his head, he saw that one of the horses in
the lead was riderless. Ladd was carrying Mercedes. Dick marveled
that her collapse had not come sooner. Another time, rousing himself
again, he imagined they were now on a good hard road.
It seemed that hours passed, though he knew only little time had
elapsed, when once more he threw off the spell of weariness. He heard
a dog bark. Tall trees lined the open lane down which he was riding.
Presently in the gray gloom he saw low, square houses with flat roofs.
Ladd turned off to the left down another lane, gloomy between trees.
Every few rods there was one of the squat houses. This lane opened
into wider, lighter space. The cold air bore a sweet perfume--whether
of flowers or fruit Dick could not tell. Ladd rode on for perhaps a
quarter of a mile, though it seemed interminably long to Dick. A grove
of trees loomed dark in the gray morning. Ladd entered it and was lost
in the shade. Dick rode on among trees. Presently he heard voices,
and soon another house, low and flat like the others, but so long he
could not see the farther end, stood up blacker than the trees. As he
dismounted, cramped and sore, he could scarcely stand. Lash came
alongside. He spoke, and some one with a big, hearty voice replied to
him. Then it seemed to Dick that he was led into blackness like pitch,
where, presently, he felt blankets thrown on him and then his drowsy
faculties faded.