Longorio stared first at the huddled, perspiring man beside the
telephone and then at the frightened woman. "Is that the truth?" he
demanded, harshly.
"Yes," Austin answered. "They are bringing the body to this side. You
know what that means."
"Did you know this?" The general turned upon Alaire. Of the four he was
the least excited.
From the background Paloma quavered: "You told us Ricardo was not dead,
so--it is all right. There is no--harm done."
A brief silence ensued, then Longorio shrugged. "Who knows? Let us hope
that he suffered no harm on Mexican soil. That would be serious,
indeed; yes, very serious, for I have given my word to your government.
This--David Law--" he pronounced the name carefully, but with a
strange, foreign accent--"he is a reckless person to defy the border
regulations. It is a grave matter to invade foreign territory on such a
mission." Longorio again bent his brilliant eyes upon Alaire. "I see
that you are concerned for his safety. You would not desire him to come
to trouble, eh? He has done you favors; he is your friend, as I am.
Well"--a mirthless smile exposed his splendid white teeth--"we must
think of that. Now I will bid you good night."
"Where are you going?" demanded Miss Jones.
"To the river, and then to Romero. I may be needed, for those men of
mine are stupid fellows and there is danger of a misunderstanding. In
the dark anything may happen. I should like to meet this David Law; he
is a man of my own kind." Turning to "Young Ed," he said: "There is
reason for haste, and a horse moves slowly. Would you do me the favor,
if you have an automobile--"
"No! I won't!" Ed declared. "I don't want to see the Rio Grande
to-night. I won't be involved--"
"But you are already involved. Come! There is no time to waste, and I
have something to say to you. You will drive me to the river, and my
horse will remain here until I return for him."
There was no mistaking the command in Longorio's tone; the master of
Las Palmas rose as if under compulsion. He took his hat, and the two
men left the room.
"Oh, my God!" Paloma gasped. "They'll be in time, and so will the Lewis
gang."
"Quick! Ed will take his runabout--we'll follow in my car." Alaire fled
to make herself ready. A few moments later she looked out from her
window and saw the headlights of Ed's runabout flash down the driveway
to the road; then she and Paloma rushed to the garage where the
touring-car stood.
"They'll never expect us to follow them"--Alaire tried to speak
hopefully--"and we'll drive without lights. Maybe we'll get there in
time, after all." As the machine rolled out through the gate she
elaborated the half-formed plan that had come to her: "The brush is
thick along the river; we can leave the car hidden and steal up to the
pump-house. When we hear the boat coming maybe we can call out in time
to warn your father."
"The moon is rising," Paloma half sobbed. "They'll be sure to see us.
Do you think we're ahead of Tad Lewis?"
"Oh yes. He hasn't had time to get here yet, but--he'll come fast when
he starts. This is the only plan I can think of."
Alaire drove as swiftly as she dared, following the blurred streak of
gray that was the road, and taking the bumps with utter recklessness.
Already the yellow rim of the moon was peering over the horizon to her
right, and by its light she found the road that turned abruptly toward
the Rio Grande, a mile or more distant. The black mud from the last
heavy rain had hardened; the ruts in this side road were deep, and the
car leaped and plunged, flinging its occupants from side to side. Ahead
loomed the dark ridge of the river thickets, a dense rampart of
mesquite, ebony, and coma, with here and there a taller alamo or
hackberry thrusting itself skyward. But even before they were sheltered
from the moonlight Paloma saw the lights of another automobile
approaching along the main-traveled highway behind them--the lights,
evidently, of Tad Lewis's machine. A moment later Alaire's car drove
into the black shadows, but, fearing to switch on her headlights, she
felt her way cautiously between the walls of foliage until at her right
another opening showed, like a narrow arroyo, diverging from the one
they followed. Into this she swerved, regardless of the fact that it
was half grown up with brush. Thorny branches swept the sides of the
machine; rank, dew-soaked grass rose to the height of the tonneau. The
car came to a jolting pause, then the motor ceased its purring, and the
two women sat motionless, listening for the rattle of the on-coming
machine. It had been a short, swift, exciting ride. "Young Ed's"
runabout could not be many minutes ahead of them.
Alaire knew the Tad Lewis car, an old-style, cheap affair, which
advertised its mechanical imperfections by a loud clashing of gears and
a noisy complaint of loose parts; therefore, when the leafy cañon walls
behind her hiding-place were brilliantly illuminated and a car stole
silently past at low speed, she seized Paloma by the arm and whispered:
"That's not Lewis."
"Who is it? It can't be Ed."
"No, he and Longorio are ahead of us. It's another motor entirely."
The women got out, then breasted the high grass and brambles between
their hiding-place and the pump-house road. As soon as they were back
in the trail they made all possible speed, speculating meanwhile upon
the mystery of the unknown car. Emerging into the clearing which
surrounded the power-plant, they discovered the machine in question
standing dark and deserted in the shadows. Evidently the driver,
whoever he was, well knew what he was about, and had not blundered upon
this place by accident. A hundred yards away they could now see the
ghostly Rio Grande, its saffron surface faintly silvered by the low
moon; lights gleamed from the windows of Morales's house. In the
distance the vague outlines of the Mexican shore were resolving
themselves, and far beyond winked the evidence that some belated
citizens of Romero were still awake.
Paloma had brought with her the long-barreled Winchester rifle, and
this she clutched nervously as she and Alaire stood whispering.
Conditions were favorable for an approach to the pump-house itself, for
two ridges of earth, perhaps eight feet high, thrown up like parallel
furrows from a giant plow, marked the beginning of the irrigation
ditch, and in the shadow of these the women worked their way forward,
unobserved. They had nearly reached their goal when out into the
clearing behind them, with metallic rattle and clang, burst another
automobile, and Paloma whispered, excitedly:
"There's the Lewis outfit at last."
In the Lewis car were several men. They descended hurriedly, and when
one of them ran around the front of the car to turn off its lights both
women saw that he carried a rifle. Evidently Tad Lewis had come
prepared for desperate measures.
A small door gave entrance to the boiler-room, and into the lock of
this Mrs. Austin fitted a key; the next moment she and Paloma were
safely inside. They found themselves in utter darkness now, with a
smooth brick floor beneath their feet and a strong odor of oil and
burnt fuel in their nostrils.
Alaire was agreeably surprised in Paloma Jones, for, although the girl
was wrought to a pitch of hysterical excitement, she had, nevertheless,
retained her wits; nor had she faltered in the slightest. It was
evident that the fighting blood of her father was aroused in her, for
she said, calmly:
"When it gets light enough to shoot, I'm going to get Tad Lewis."
"Don't act too quickly," cautioned Alaire. "Perhaps your father and
Dave have come and gone. Anyhow, we can warn them just as well by
firing into the air."
In reply to this suggestion Paloma merely muttered something under her
breath.
The brief night ride had given Alaire time in which to recover from her
first apprehensions, and now she was surprised at her own coolness.
Ed's behavior had shocked and horrified her; she was still half
paralyzed at his treachery; nevertheless, her mind was clear, and she
was determined to avert a tragedy if possible. She knew only too well
what would happen when Blaze Jones and Dave Law encountered the Lewis
gang; the presence of Longorio's soldiers merely made more certain the
outcome of that meeting. The general was furious; it was plain that he
would not tolerate this expedition, the avowed purpose of which was to
prove him a liar. It would make but little difference, therefore,
whether the quest for Ricardo Guzman's body had been successful or not:
even the fact that this was American soil would not deter Longorio from
violent action, for the Rio Grande was no real boundary, and this part
of Texas was as truly Mexican as that other river-bank which lay two
hundred yards distant.
A confusion of such thoughts were racing through Alaire's mind as she
felt her way out of the boiler-room and into that part of the building
where the pumping machinery stood. Dusty, cobwebbed windows let in a
faint ghost-glow of moonlight, but prevented clear observation of
anything outside; Alaire's fumbling fingers found the latch of the
front door and began to lift it, when some one spoke, just outside the
building.
"What did you discover?" inquired a voice which neither woman
recognized. Paloma clutched blindly for her companion; the two
eavesdroppers stood rooted in their tracks. The pounding of their
hearts sounded loudly. Since the building was little more than a wooden
shell, they could plainly hear the answer:
"The house is full of Greasers. I can't tell who they are."
A third man spoke, this time in Spanish. "That was Tad Lewis who just
came, señor."
There followed some whispered words indistinguishable to the listeners,
then a rustle of bodies moving through the tall grass and weeds.
Paloma placed her lips close to Alaire's ear. "Who are those people?"
she breathed.
"I don't know. They must be the ones who came in that strange
automobile."
Paloma chattered viciously: "Everybody in Texas is here. I wish we'd
thought to scatter tacks behind us."
Cautiously they swung the door back and looked out. The open space
along the river-bank was leveled by the moonlight; from Morales's
house, to their right, came the sound of voices. The women waited.
A few moments, then a number of men appeared. Paloma judged there were
at least a dozen, but she was too excited to count them. As they came
straggling toward the pump-house one of them called back:
"Morales! Put out your damned lights," Both women recognized Tad Lewis
as the speaker.
Alaire had stubbornly refused to charge her husband with any active
share in this evil business, but her faith in Ed suddenly vanished when
she heard him say:
"Hush! You're making too much noise. You'd better scatter out, too, for
there's no telling where they'll land." Alaire leaned weakly against
the door. "I'm going to leave, and let you-all attend to the rest," he
was saying. But Tad Lewis halted him as he turned from the group.
"Where are you going, Ed? You left your car back yonder by the road. I
almost ran into it."
"Eh? What are you talking about? My car is over by Morales's house."
"Señor Austin is in a great hurry," sneered some one in Spanish. "Once
more he leaves all of the fighting to his friends."
"That's Adolfo Urbina," panted Paloma. "I know him." Stung by this open
charge of cowardice, Austin began a voluble defense, but in the midst
of it General Longorio addressed him, sharply:
"You will stay here, señor. Nobody leaves this place."
"I told you I wouldn't be a party to the business," Ed declared, hotly.
"You forced me to come in the first place--"
"Yes! And now I force you to stay."
Longorio's stand appeared to please Lewis, who chimed in with the
words: "That's right, Ed. You've got to stick, for once in your life."
"What do you mean, you nearly ran into my car back yonder?" Austin
asked, after a moment.
"Ain't that your machine yonder by the thicket?" inquired Lewis. "If it
ain't, whose is it?" As no one answered, he started in the direction he
had indicated; but at that moment a man came running from the
riverbank, crying, softly:
"Look out! They come."
"I'm going to shoot," Paloma Jones gasped, but Alaire, who once again
heard the sound of whispering in the shadows just outside their
hiding-place, managed to restrain her companion. It was well that she
succeeded, for even as Paloma raised her weapon a man passed swiftly by
the crack of the half-open door and scarcely ten feet beyond the muzzle
of the rifle. He was followed by three others.
The first of the new-comers, acting as spokesman for his party, stepped
out into the moonlight and cried, loudly: "Hello, men! What's goin' on
here?" It was an American voice; it had a broad, slow, Texas drawl.
The group of plotters turned, there was a startled murmur, then Tad
Lewis answered:
"Hello! Who are you? What do you want?"
"I reckon we must have got off the road," announced the stranger. Then
he peered out across the river: "Say! Ain't that a skiff coming
yonder?" he inquired.
"Well, it don't look like a steamboat." Lewis laughed, disagreeably.
"We're havin' a little party of our own. I reckon you fellows had
better beat it. Understand?"
The outposts that had been sent to cover the bank in both directions
were now coming in. Through the stillness of the night there sounded
the thump of oar-locks. Seeing that the stranger did not seem to take
his hint, Lewis raised his voice menacingly:
"That's your road back yonder. It's a right good road, and I'd advise
you to travel it, fast."
But this suggestion was also ignored; in fact, it appeared to amuse the
man addressed, for he, too, laughed. He turned, and the women noticed
that he carried a short saddle-gun. They saw, also, that at least one
of the men at his back was similarly armed.
"Now, what's the hurry?" The stranger was chuckling. Suddenly he raised
his voice and called, loudly: "Hello, Dave! Is that you-all?"