ON THE “_SACHEM’S_” DECK.
With Frank Merriwell’s party on board, Henry Crossgrove’s magnificent
steam yacht finally dropped anchor in Camden Harbor on the coast of
Maine.
After Dick Merriwell’s victory, he and his triumphant companions of the
Fairhaven team had been invited by Crossgrove to join Frank’s party on
the _Sachem_. While the winners of the pennant in the Trolley League had
accepted this invitation and were taken from Fairhaven by the handsome
yacht of the steel magnate, on arriving at Camden Dick and Brad Buckhart
were the only ones of the victorious nine who had not dropped off at
other ports and departed for their various homes.
The evening following the arrival of the yacht at Camden was a glorious
one. A full moon shed its mellow light over the village that nestled at
the foot of the mountains. The harbor was unrippled by a breath of air,
and the mellow sweetness of passing summer lay over everything.
During the day Frank and his friends had enjoyed a buckboard ride along
the turnpike road, and, therefore, both Elsie and Inza were quite
content to remain on the yacht that evening when Frank announced that he
must go ashore for the purpose of mailing some letters.
For a time the girls sat chatting in the moonlight, unapproached or
interrupted by any one.
“It doesn’t seem so very long since we were here before, Inza,” said
Elsie. “Do you remember all the strange things that happened then?”
“I can never forget them,” declared Inza, reaching out and grasping
Elsie’s hand. “I can never forget your nobility and generosity, my dear
friend. For my sake you tried to make Frank believe yourself shallow,
fickle, and false-hearted. You deceived me, but you couldn’t deceive
him. He never lost confidence in you, Elsie.”
“I don’t think we quite knew our own minds in those days, Inza,”
declared Elsie. “We thought we did, but I am sure we didn’t. It’s all
come right at last. There are no more jealousies, no more
heart-burnings, and no more bitterness.”
“It took us a long time to know each other, didn’t it, dear?” murmured
Inza. “But in one way you are more fortunate than I.”
“How’s that?”
“Frank must go back to Mexico. It’s absolutely necessary, he says, to
have a hand in the building of that railroad which will open up the
country in which lies his San Pablo Mine. He has heard some things of
late that make him uneasy. You know there’s always a chance for trouble
over any large investment in Mexico. There are rumors that another
syndicate wishes to build a railroad through exactly the same territory,
and that powerful influence is being brought to bear on the Mexican
government by this rival concern. I am almost sorry Frank has not sought
a market for his Sonora Mine. Now that Bart has no mining interests, he
is at liberty to go into any business he chooses, and he may remain in
the East.”
“We have talked that over, Inza,” said Elsie. “Already Bart has told me
about this trouble Frank may have, and I have urged him to stand by
Frank until it is settled. Instead of remaining in the East, Bart will
return to Mexico when Frank goes.”
“Oh, Elsie!” exclaimed Inza; “I know how keenly you must feel the
sacrifice! You had planned something entirely different, and now——”
“And now I am ready to put my plans and hopes aside for a time. Bart
knows how much he owes to Frank, and he is anxious to stand by him. If I
were to ask it, he would not go back to Mexico; but I have urged him to
do so.”
“Just like you, Elsie!” declared Inza. “Frank may not start for some
time yet. He will have considerable work in New York with the
capitalists who are going to push that railroad through. You know he has
a number of maps and plans of the country through which the railroad
will pass. True, a survey has been made, but Frank knows that country
better than the engineers who made the survey. This he has demonstrated
to the capitalists, and there’s to be a meeting in New York some time
next week. It’s impossible to say how soon after that meeting he will be
obliged to leave for Mexico.”
“Don’t you fear to have him go down there into that wild country, Inza?”
“No, I don’t fear,” was the immediate answer. “I have absolute
confidence in Frank.”
“But the Mexicans are so treacherous. They often strike at an enemy’s
back.”
“That’s true of a certain class of Mexicans, Elsie. There are several
classes of people in Mexico, you know. For instance, there are the
native Indians, then the Creoles of Spanish descent or Mexican birth.
Then there are the Spaniards born in Europe, and, finally, the
half-breeds, or cross between the Mexicans and Indians. These
half-breeds are the treacherous ones, Elsie. They are called Mestizos.
They are the enemies to be watched and avoided.”
“Do you believe, Inza, that they are really the most dangerous? Are they
not in many cases the tools of others with more brains? Now you know
there’s a person on board this yacht who can’t be a Mestizo, yet I am
afraid of him. He is a Mexican, for he has said so.”
Inza laughed a little.
“You mean Señor Porfias del Norte. He’s a friend of Mr. Crossgrove.”
“I don’t care,” said Elsie. “I don’t like him. I’m afraid of him. I’m
afraid of his smooth and snaky ways. I am afraid of his smile and his
restless eyes.”
“I am sure he is a fine-looking fellow in a way.”
“In a way, perhaps,” admitted Elsie. “Some might call him fine-looking,
and I have no doubt he considers himself very handsome.”
“Yes, I think he does,” nodded Inza. “He has a way of rolling his eyes
at one, and then that smile which shows his perfect teeth—I am sure he
practices it before the mirror.”
“It’s very strange, but I can’t bear to have him near me.”
“It’s very strange, but somehow I have taken a great interest in him. I
fancy he has some underlying purpose in life, and I wonder what it is. I
am consumed by a desire to read his secret and sound the depths of him.”
“Well, you may spend your time reading him as much as you like,” said
Elsie; “but excuse me! When he comes around I vanish.”
“He’s a fine singer, and he plays beautifully on both the guitar and
mandolin.”
“I confess he’s a fine singer. Had I never seen him to talk with him, I
should enjoy his singing; but now the very sound of his voice gives me a
little shivery feeling, and I want to stop my ears.”
“Why, I never dreamed you were such a prejudiced person, Elsie! You
always see the good in everybody.”
“That’s right, and, therefore, something tells me that when I see the
bad in a person that person must be very, very bad. Inza, I can’t help
it, but in spite of the polish of Porfias del Norte, in spite of his
politeness, his education, his entertaining manners, I feel that he is a
snake, and a poisonous snake at that.”
“Of course, you may be right, Elsie,” said Inza; “but I have never
regarded you as an acute student of human nature.”
“Nor do I profess to be, but still Profias del Norte——”
“I beg your pardon,” said a smooth, musical voice that made both girls
start. “Are you speaking of me, ladies? I hope I don’t intrude.”
A slender, graceful man stepped forward with a soft footfall. He was
dressed in light flannels and bowed politely, with his hat in one hand
and a guitar in the other, as the two girls partly rose from their
chairs.
“I beg you not to be disturbed, ladies,” he said. “I was seeking a spot
on deck where I might smoke and drum a little on my guitar when I
happened to pass you. I fancy _I_ heard my name spoken.”
“Yes,” said Inza at once, “we were speaking of you Señor del Norte. I
don’t know just how it happened—perhaps it was caused by the moonlight,
by the almost tropical calm and beauty of this night.”
“Ah!” he said. “It is a beautiful night—a glorious night! Never have I
dreamed that so far up here in the North they could have such nights. I
am a child of the South, and to me the North has ever seemed cold, and
sterile, and barren, and devoid of all that’s beautiful and attractive.
I love beautiful things. I love the flowers, the birds, the open air,
the sunshine, almost everything but darkness. Somehow I don’t like
darkness. It oppresses me! It crowds me! In the moonlight I am happy,
but let the moon go behind a cloud and I am heavy-hearted. At night I
sleep always with a light within reach of my hand. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Strange!” exclaimed Elsie. “Yes, it is. I have known children and women
who always slept with a light burning, but it’s a rare thing for a man.
Isn’t it possible, señor, that you have a reason for being afraid of the
darkness?”
“Possibly I have,” he admitted at once. “My father was murdered at
midnight on a very dark night. My mother heard the blows and tried to
aid him. She sprang to his assistance and grappled with his assailants.
They beat her down. She was stricken unconscious to the floor. When she
recovered she struck a light, and it fell on the dead body of my father,
who had been stabbed nineteen distinct times. My mother never forgot it.
She told me of it scores of times. No wonder I hate the darkness!”
He gave a heavy sigh and then suddenly exclaimed:
“A thousand pardons, ladies! I hope I’ve not disturbed you by this
little story. I should not have mentioned it. It’s a gruesome thing, and
I don’t like to think of it myself. Miss Bellwood led me into telling
you about it.”
“I am very interested,” declared Inza immediately. “Why was your father
murdered?”
“It’s a very long story. I cannot tell you everything in connection with
it now, but there were enemies who wished him out of the way. You know
my family has been connected with revolutions and government troubles
ever since the days of Miguel Hidalgo. And I may add, by the way, that
the blood of the Hidalgoes runs in my veins. I can trace my family back
to Aneta Hidalgo, the half-sister of the famous priest who led the first
insurrection against the provincial government.”
“Your family history must be very interesting, señor,” said Inza. “I
should love to hear something of it.”
“Perhaps you may some time, señorita,” he bowed. “Just now it would give
me pleasure to amuse you both with the guitar, if you don’t object.”
“Not in the least,” Inza hastened to say.
He drew up a chair and sat down.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “How is the wind? There seems to be scarcely a
breath. Still, I think you’re to leeward of me, to use a nautical term.
I will change to the opposite side, as I wish to smoke a cigarette, to
which I hope you have no objections.”
He made the change and sat close at Inza’s right hand. In a moment,
having received permission from her, he was deftly rolling a cigarette.
“It always interests me to watch an expert roll a cigarette,” she
laughed. “They do it so cleverly. It’s like magic.”
“You should see a Mexican vaquero roll one,” he said. “Some of them do
it with one hand while riding at full gallop on the back of a horse.”
He struck a match and lighted the cigarette, at which he puffed in a
manner of absolute satisfaction and content, at the same time continuing
the conversation.
“Have you ever visited my country, señorita?” he asked, directing the
question toward Inza.
“Never yet,” she answered.
“You have missed much,” he declared. “Old Mexico is the fairest land in
all the world. The American who simply crosses the line and visits the
northern part of Mexico comes away with a bad opinion of it. He sees
deserts and a country that is both mountainous and arid. Besides that,
in the north the Indians roam restlessly and create much trouble. But
let the visitor go as far south as the City of Mexico—let him go beyond.
Ah! the south of Mexico; it’s like paradise! The climate is perfect.
Down there in many places the thermometer never reaches eighty by day
and never sinks below sixty by night. It’s a land of peace and plenty.
If a man is lazy, he need not lift his hand to work from one year’s end
to another.”
“You say it’s a land of peace and plenty,” laughed Inza. “Perhaps it’s a
land of plenty, but I don’t think it has always been a land of peace.”
“By no means, señorita,” he promptly confessed. “It has been a land of
many troubles. In recent years, however, under our good president, there
has been great advancement. Sometimes when far from home I dream of it.
I hear the songs of my country.”
He began strumming the guitar. The air was a soft, sweet one, and Inza
listened, keenly pleased by it.
Not so Elsie. She had been growing more and more restless. Finally she
leaned toward Inza, breathing in a low tone these words:
“He’s going to sing. I can’t stay here and listen. Excuse me, Inza, but
I must go if he sings.”
A moment later Del Norte began to sing, and he was not aware that Elsie
Bellwood rose and slipped softly and quietly away. He sang in Spanish,
his voice being remarkably clear and sympathetic.
Understanding a little Spanish, Inza soon divined that he was singing a
love song. She saw him lean toward her, and felt his dark eyes upon her.
Anchored at various distances about them were other yachts, and to the
girl it seemed that on board all these the people paused to listen. A
small rowboat had been passing with clanking oars; but now the oars were
silent and the boat was drifting, while its occupant sat perfectly
still.
Finally the song ended, and Del Norte remained quite motionless, still
gazing at Inza with those deep, dark eyes of his.
She laughed with pleasure and clapped her hands softly.
“Very fine, señor,” she said. “You are a very fine singer. But I confess
I don’t know what it was all about.”
“Do you wish me to tell you?” he murmured.
Suddenly she realized that they were on dangerous ground.
“I think not,” she answered quickly. “I will have more pleasure in
guessing at its meaning.”
“Señorita, as I sang that song I thought of you and I thousands of miles
away, far down in my own country. I have seen beautiful maidens in
Mexico, but never one quite your equal—Inza!”
Instantly she straightened up a little, and her voice was cold and full
of reproof as she said:
“Señor del Norte, only my most intimate friends call me by my Christian
name. We’ve not yet known each other a whole week.”
“I beg your pardon!” he exclaimed, with apparent humbleness and regret.
“The name slipped from my lips before I knew what I was saying. It’s
such a beautiful name. You don’t know, but all alone by myself I have
repeated it over a hundred times. Of course, you can’t object if I keep
saying it to myself—Inza! Inza! Inza!”
“I fear, señor, that you are like most men—you fancy every girl you meet
is smitten on you. You will find that American girls are not the sort
who fall in love with every stranger with fine teeth, and eyes, and
polished manners.”
“I accept the reproof, señorita. I presume I deserve it, still I can’t
repress my feelings. We people from the South differ from you of the
North. You are able to hide your real emotions behind a placid exterior.
Just as you live in houses to keep out the cold, you train yourselves to
live in bodies that hide your real natures.”
Inza laughed a little.
“You’re indeed a clever talker, Señor del Norte.”
“Let me say a little more. Let me tell you that many times I have
thought you should be one of my own blood. You are like my people in
your dark eyes, your hair, your bearing, all save your cold exterior.
Could you cast that off and be your true self—ah! what a wonderful
change for the better! Something tells me your heart is not cold;
something tells me it’s warm and impulsive.”
“Let’s not talk of these things,” said Inza. “I don’t like it. I wish
you would tell me more of yourself and your family, señor. Do you know
you have aroused my curiosity. I confess that.”
“Then, at least,” he laughed, “I am not wholly unattractive and
repulsive to you? Perhaps you will forgive me if I have spoken too
openly. I know you are engaged to Señor Merriwell, and a splendid
gentleman he is. I admire him very much. Like many progressive
Americans, he is interested in business projects in my country. Perhaps,
señorita, you know a great deal about his plans?”
Del Norte uttered these words in a careless manner, but somehow Inza
felt as if he were trying to pump her.
“Perhaps I do,” she answered.
“He is soon to return to Mexico?”
“Yes.”
“He has a mine in Eastern Sonora?”
“That’s right, Señor del Norte.”
“I presume his title to the mine is a good one?”
“Without doubt. Frank seldom gets trapped. A little while ago a powerful
mining syndicate attempted to wrest his property from him. They
investigated his right to his mine in Arizona and to the one in Mexico.
They engaged expert lawyers to look over the titles to both properties.
As a result it was decided that his claim to the San Pablo Mine was
solid and could not be shaken by process of law. They thought
differently in regard to the Queen Mystery. After trying to seize it,
they took the matter into the Arizona courts, where it was fought out,
with the result that Frank’s claim to the mine was made indisputable.
Had the Consolidated Mining Association believed there was the slightest
chance to shake his claim to the San Pablo they would have made more
trouble than they did for him down there. Fancying he did not have that
mine well protected, they employed a famous brigand to raise a force and
seize it. He discovered the plot, and the attack on the mine was
repulsed, the result being that the syndicate quickly gave over the
attempt to get hold of it.”
“Señorita,” said Del Norte, “I wish to tell you something. There are
very few titles to mining properties in Mexico that cannot be broken.
You must know that the government of my country has undergone such
vicissitudes that thousands of old claims and titles are utterly
worthless. I have told you that I am perfectly frank and outspoken. You
suggested a desire to hear my story. You admitted I had aroused your
curiosity. Señorita, if you are truly in earnest, if you care to listen,
I will tell you the story.”
“It will interest me very much,” she declared. “Elsie has gone in. Frank
will be back soon, and you will amuse me by telling me the story to pass
the time.”
“Then listen,” he said.
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