Midnight saw the prisoners safely bestowed in a 'dobe that had served
the old Spaniard, Carleton's predecessor, for a jail. During the
remainder of the night the Three stood guard in turn and Gordon, who
relieved Sliver at daybreak, was still at the door when Lee came out of
her bedroom on the upper gallery.
Goodness knows she was pretty enough in her man's riding-togs, but now a
flowing kimono added the softness and mystery a man loves best in a
woman. As she moved forward to the rail and stretched, looking off and
away to the mountains, the loose sleeves fell away and Gordon obtained a
distracting glimpse of polished arms, small white teeth, in a round red
mouth, all set in the blazing gold of her hair. Seeing him, she cut off
the yawn and smiled.
"You must be dreadfully hungry." Her clear call floated across the
compound. "Come to breakfast. I'll send Miguel to keep watch."
She was already seated at the table under the _portales_ when he came
in, and as he took his seat Maria, the smaller of the two house
_criadas_, reported the Three as being still lost in sleep.
"The poor fellows!" Lee commented, distressfully. "They must be dead.
Don't awaken them."
Thus, after the crowding events of the previous day, which included a
fist fight, proposal of marriage from one girl, wild chase after
another, a bandit raid and lynching-party, all rendered more impressive
by the dark ride through warm, mysterious night, Gordon now sat
_tête-à-tête_ with his pretty employer.
The _patio_, with its arched _corredors_, cool as a grotto under
flooding greenery, the bird song, and exotic flowers; flame of the
_arbol de fuego_; glimpses in the crypt-like kitchen of a _criada_ down
on her knees rubbing _tortilla_ paste on a stone _metate_; the soft
stealth with which Maria moved around the table on nude feet; all these
helped to deepen those profound impressions. And while he watched Lee's
small hands fluttering like butterflies over the breakfast things, and
gained confirmatory glimpses of the polished whiteness of her arms, came
still others.
Two brown girls, who stood twisting their skirts in the gateway, moved
forward at Lee's word.
"They wish to take my advice about following their lovers to the wars,"
she summed for him their Spanish. "I explained the risks of hunting them
among twenty thousand revolutionists, and advised them to wait till they
came home. But they say that is too indefinite. They may be killed, and
there is no one to marry them here but the _ancianos_, and they already
have wives. So they are going--to join the rag and bobtail in the wake
of the revolution."
After the next client, a wrinkled old woman, had followed the girls out,
Lee burst out in merry laughter. "She was telling me of a miracle that
occurred at the funeral of her brother, who worked for William Benson.
It appears that he had only his dirty cotton calzones to be buried in,
so his wife begged a worn white suit from Mr. Benson. The poor old
fellow had been reduced by sickness to a rack of bones, and you could
have rolled him in it like a blanket. And here came the miracle! The
weather, you know, was exceedingly hot last week, and instead of burying
him at once they waited till some relatives from a distance had arrived.
And when the coffin was opened for them to take a last look--lo! the
miracle!
"'For Saint Joseph,' she said, just now, 'had wrought a most wonderful
thing, señorita. Whereas Refugio had lain in the señor's clothes like a
nut in a withered shell, he was now so large and handsome they fitted
him like his skin!'"
He laughed so heartily she was drawn on to tell him more, and pleased
herself thereby as much as him. For to be really happy, a girl must have
exercise for her tongue, and with all their genuine devotion the Three
offered but a limited field for conversation. Naturally laconic, their
communications touched principally upon flocks and herds; and holding,
as they did, the traditional frontier viewpoint concerning Mexicans--to
wit, that they ranked in the scale of creation below the Gila
monster--they shared neither her affection for, nor understanding of,
her brown retainers.
But Gordon, with his quick and reciprocal feeling, made an ideal
listener. From the "miracle" she ran on with anecdotes and happenings,
some quaint, others amusing, several tragic, that revealed with a
vividness beyond the power of description the mixture of love and
treachery, simplicity and savagery, ignorance and idealism, religious
faith and gross superstition, that go into the making of a Mexican.
While she talked and he listened, there was established a community of
feeling which was destined to produce immediate results.
"What is it, Maria?" Pausing, she looked up at the _criada_ who had just
carried the prisoners their breakfast.
"They wish to speak to me," she translated the girl's answer, "alone.
They say it is very important."
"Better let me go with you." Gordon rose. "I can wait outside."
"Surely." She accepted, at once, his offer, and when, moreover, he
followed in after Miguel opened the prison door, she offered no
objection.
Neither did the raiders--for reasons that quickly developed. "It matters
not, señorita." The man whose face had caused Bull such disturbance
shrugged his indifference when Lee explained that Gordon spoke no
Spanish. "'Tis of the others, your servants, I would speak."
While crossing the compound she had puckered her smooth brow over the
mystery--without gaining any inkling to break the force of the
communication. While the fellow ran on, hands and shoulders helping out
his torrential Spanish, Gordon saw her expression pass through surprise,
incredulity, doubt, finally settle in deep concern, when, with emphasis
that carried conviction, the other three testified to the truth of their
fellow's words.
"I-- Oh, do you know what they say?" Distressed, she turned to Gordon
with blind instinct for help. "I really don't know whether I ought to
tell you. It so dreadfully, pitifully concerns our poor friends. You
have been here such a short time, yet--I feel that you can be trusted.
They say--"
But the tale, as elaborated and filled in by Gordon's cross-examination,
is best summed. Not for nothing had been Bull's "hunch." The haunting
face fitted the _charro_ who had held their horses that day at the
_jefe-politico's_ gate in Las Bocas. When the Three failed to return
with Carleton's horses, that astute person--the "wicked one" of
yesterday's talk--had sent out others. In return for the _señorita's_
great kindness in saving their lives--but principally, if the truth be
known, because they feared to be sent out under convoy of Sliver and
Jake--they wished to make grateful return by warning her against these
evil ones; these wolves in sheep's clothing that had slunk into her
fold! Followed a recital of their border raids that lost nothing by
reason of the details being filled in from imagination! They were
terrible _hombres_! _Muy malo_! greatly desired by the _gringo_ police
for dreadful crimes!
"Don't you suppose they are lying?" Gordon suggested.
She shook her head. "Their story is too literal. When a _peon_ lies, he
goes the limit. Some terrible tale of atrocious murder and torture would
be the least; something beyond mere banditry, which is scarcely a crime
in their eyes. Then it is corroborated by a lot of little things. You
know they were riding my horses yesterday and were differently dressed,
yet this man described their horses and clothing as he saw them in Las
Bocas, just as they were the first day they came here. And do you
remember how they looked at one another yesterday when I said that any
of us might have done the same thing?"
Gordon nodded. "They did look queer, and do you recall Bull's answer?
'Under the same circumstances, we-all 'u'd expect to hang.' He spoke so
slowly, looking at the others, and they both nodded."
"Then see how they came here--started up, as it were, out of the ground.
In Mexico one doesn't ask strangers embarrassing questions. It would be
like throwing stones at random in a city of glass. But if they stay with
you, one generally learns something of their past. But theirs is wrapped
in mystery. I know no more of them than on the day they came. It is
probably true."
Her tone was quiet, indeed so casual in its acceptance of the fact that
Gordon wondered. In El Paso he had been greatly impressed by the
knight-errantry of the Three in espousing the cause of a lonely girl.
During the last week he had seen for himself their simplicity of heart,
rough kindliness, genuine devotion; and now this land of surprises had
confounded him again with its juggler's changes of good and evil. These
kindly fellows were, after all, cattle-rustlers, but one remove from
bandits.
To him it was a most astonishing situation. In New York, where folks
were sharply divided into the sheep and the goats, it would have been
easily solved; one would have merely rung for the police. But here,
where everything seemed to go by contraries, anything might happen.
Accordingly, he looked at her and waited.
But she did not answer his unspoken question. She was looking at him,
yes, with wide, distressed eyes. But he felt, without understanding,
that she was looking across that queer situation. He had a sudden, vivid
suspicion that he was on trial in her mind instead of the Three. He was
certain of it when she spoke.
"What would _you_ do?"
Ten days ago he would undoubtedly have viewed the case under his
previous lights and have pronounced it one for the police. Now he
answered from the larger charity that belonged to the land: "You
remember what you said yesterday and repeated a moment ago--under the
same circumstances we might have done the same thing? It isn't what they
_were_; it's what they _are_ that counts."
"Oh, I _knew_ you would say it!" She impulsively thrust out her hand,
and as the small, firm fingers locked with his in a strong grip, he knew
that not only had he emerged victorious, but also that his answer had
established between them a real bond. Eyes shining, she ran on: "They
saved my life, helped to nurse my father, have been so kind and good and
dear! If they had been the vilest criminals it would make no difference
to me. They are my people, my _men_!"
"Of course they are!" Gordon cordially agreed. "Now what about these
fellows? What will you tell them?"
Doubt clouded her shining enthusiasm. "I don't quite know. What do you
think would be best?"
"The truth. If what they say is true, and we believe it is, they can't
be bluffed. But it won't do to have them believe you knew nothing of
this. I'd hint that though you were not acquainted with the details, you
were perfectly aware of your servants' past, but that they are now
leading honorable lives. Clinch it by adding that you hope they will do
half as well with their chance."
"Fine!" Her face lit up again, and when, having put it all into Spanish
for the thieves, they went outside, she thanked him for the counsel. "I
knew you could help me. Now just one more thing--this is all between you
and me. No one else must ever know--especially them."
"We'll forget it ourselves."
Once more her small cool fingers locked with his, and, smiling brightly,
she went back to the house, leaving him to resume his guard till the
prisoners were taken away by Sliver and Jake.
After they were gone there entered into Gordon's mind a small doubt.
Supposing the raiders talked? Spread their report of the Three through
the desert country? It remained, that little doubt, like a thorn in the
side till it was drawn by Sliver and Jake when they returned the
following night.
"We'd calc'lated to hand 'em over to the vaqueros at Hacienda El Reposo,
an' have them chase 'em beyond their bounds," Jake explained. "But at
the railroad we ran into a Valles colonel that was drumming up recruits.
He grabbed 'em offen our hands that quick they hadn't time to kick."
"By now," Sliver added, "they're three hundred miles south on their way
to death an' glory."
"But the little girl mustn't know that," Bull's heavy bass rose in
caution. "She was that sot on returning 'em to their women and children,
it 'u'd half break her heart."
"Not a whisper," the two agreed, but Sliver added, with a chuckle, "Alle
same, they'll stay put an' trouble her no more."