Dave Law slept for twenty hours, and even when he awoke it was not to a
clear appreciation of his surroundings. At first he was relieved to
find that the splitting pain in his head was gone, but imagined himself
to be still in the maddening local train from Brownsville. By and by he
recognized Paloma and Mrs. Strange, and tried to talk to them, but the
connection between brain and tongue was imperfect, and he made a bad
business of conversation. It seemed queer that he should be in bed at
the Joneses', and almost ludicrous for Mrs. Strange to support him
while Paloma fed him. In the effort to understand these mysteries, he
dozed again. After interminable periods of semi-consciousness
alternating with complete oblivion, he roused himself to discover that
it was morning and that he felt better than for weeks. When he had
recovered from his surprise he turned his head and saw Mrs. Strange
slumbering in a chair beside his bed; from her uncomfortable position
and evident fatigue he judged that she must have kept a long and
faithful vigil over him.
A little later Paloma, pale and heavy-eyed, stole into the room, and
Dave's cheerful greeting awoke Mrs. Strange with a jerk.
"So! You're feeling better, aren't you," the latter woman cried,
heartily.
"Yes. How did I get here?" Dave asked. "I must have been right sick and
troublesome to you."
Paloma smiled and nodded. "Sick! Why, Dave, you frightened us nearly to
death! You were clear out of your head."
So that was it. The breakdown had come sooner than he expected, and it
had come, moreover, without warning. That was bad--bad! Although Dave's
mind was perfectly clear at this moment, he reasoned with a sinking
heart that another brain-storm might overtake him at any time. He had
imagined that the thing would give a hint of its coming, but evidently
it did not.
Mrs. Strange broke into his frowning meditation to ask, "How long since
you had a night's sleep?"
"I--Oh, it must be weeks."
"Umph! I thought so. You puzzled that pill-roller, but doctors don't
know anything, anyhow. Why, he wanted to wake you up to find out what
ailed you! I threatened to scald him if he did."
"I seem to remember talking a good deal," Dave ventured. "I reckon
I--said a lot of foolish things." He caught the look that passed
between his nurses and its significance distressed him.
Mrs. Strange continued: "That's how we guessed what your trouble was,
and that's why I wouldn't let that fool doctor disturb you. Now that
you've had a sleep and are all right again, I'm going home and change
my clothes. I haven't had them off for two nights."
"Two nights!" Dave stared in bewilderment. Then he lamely apologized
for the trouble he had caused, and tried to thank the women for their
kindness.
He was shaky when, an hour later, he came down-stairs for breakfast;
but otherwise he felt better than for many days; and Blaze's open
delight at seeing did him as much good as the food he ate.
Dave spent the morning sunning himself on the porch, reading the papers
with their exciting news, and speculating over the significance of his
mental collapse. The more he thought of it now the more ominous it
seemed. One result which particularly distressed him was the change it
had wrought in Paloma Jones's bearing; for of a sudden the girl had
become distant and formal. The reason was not far to seek; Dave could
not doubt that the knowledge of his secret had frightened her. Well,
that was to be expected--he would probably lose all his friends in
time. It was a bitter thought; life would be very dull and flat without
friends. He wondered how he could bear to see those who loved him turn
away; to see their liking change to restraint and fear, as it
threatened to do in Paloma's case. Better anything than that.
There was, however, one friend who, Dave knew, would not shun him; one
of whose lasting affection he felt sure; and at memory of her he came
to his feet. Montrosa would trust him. She had given him her heart, and
her loyalty would never waver. With a clutch at his throat, and a
little pain in his breast, he stumbled down the steps and went in
search of her.
Now during Dave's absence Paloma had done her best to spoil the mare,
and among other marks of favor had allowed her free run of the yard,
where the shade was cool and the grass fine, and where delicious
tidbits were to be had from the kitchen for the mere asking. In
consequence, Dave did not go far until he was discovered. Montrosa
signaled, then trotted toward him with ears and tail lifted. Her
delight was open and extravagant; her welcome was as enthusiastic as a
horse could make it. Gone were her coquetry and her airs; she nosed and
nibbled Dave; she rubbed and rooted him with the violence of a
battering-ram, and permitted him to hug her and murmur words of love
into her velvet ears. She swapped confidence for confidence, too; and
then, when he finally walked back toward the house, she followed
closely, as if fearful that he might again desert her.
Phil Strange met the lovers as they turned the corner of the porch, and
warmly shook Dave's hand. "Teeny--my wife--told me you was better," he
began, "so I beat it out here. I hung around all day yesterday, waiting
to see you, but you was batty."
"I was pretty sick," Dave acknowledged. "Mrs. Strange was mighty kind
to me."
"Sick people get her goat. She's got a way with 'em, and with animals,
too. Why, Rajah, the big python with our show, took sick one year, and
he'd have died sure only for her. Same with a lot of the other animals.
She knows more'n any vet I ever saw."
"Perhaps I needed a veterinary instead of a doctor," Dave smiled. "I
guess I've got some horse blood in me. See!" Montrosa had thrust her
head under his arm and was waiting for him to scratch her ears.
"Well, I brought you some mail." Strange fumbled in his pocket for a
small bundle of letters, explaining: "Blaze gave me these for you as I
passed the post office. Now I wonder if you feel good enough to talk
business."
Dave took the letters with a word of thanks, and thrust them carelessly
into his pocket. "What seems to be the trouble?" he inquired.
"You remember our last talk? Well, them Mexicans have got me rattled.
I've been trying everywhere to locate you. If you hadn't come home I'd
have gone to the prosecuting attorney, or somebody."
"Then you've learned something more?"
Phil nodded, and his sallow face puckered with apprehension. "Rosa
Morales has been to see me regular."
Dave passed an uncertain hand over his forehead. "I'm not in very good
shape to tackle a new proposition, but--what is it?"
"We've got to get Mrs. Austin away from here."
"We? Why?"
"If we don't they'll steal her."
"STEAL HER?" Dave's amazement was patent. "Are you crazy?"
"Sometimes I think I am, but I've pumped that Morales girl dry, and I
can't figure anything else out of what she tells me. Her and José
expect to make a lump of quick money, jump to Mexico, get married, and
live happy ever after. Take it from me, it's Mrs. Austin they aim to
cash in on."
"Why--the idea's ridiculous!"
"Maybe it is and maybe it ain't," the fortune-teller persisted. "More
than one rich Mexican has been grabbed and held for ransom along this
river; yes, and Americans, too, if you can believe the stories.
Anything goes in that country over there."
"You think José is planning to kidnap her? Nonsense! One man couldn't
do such a thing."
"I didn't say he could," Phil defended himself, sulkily. "Remember, I
told you there was somebody back of him."
"Yes, I remember, but you didn't know exactly who."
"Well, I don't exactly know yet. I thought maybe you might tell me."
There was a brief silence, during which Dave stood frowning. Then he
appeared to shake himself free from Phil's suggestions.
"It's too utterly preposterous. Mrs. Austin has no enemies; she's a
person of importance. If by any chance she disappeared--"
"She's done that very little thing," Strange declared.
"What?"
"She's disappeared--anyhow, she's gone. Yesterday, when I saw you was
laid up and couldn't help me, I 'phoned her ranch; somebody answered in
Spanish, and from what I could make out they don't know where she is."
Dave wondered if he had understood Strange aright, or if this could be
another trick of his own disordered brain. Choosing his words
carefully, he said: "Do you mean to tell me that she's missing and they
haven't given an alarm? I reckon you didn't understand the message, did
you?"