SEÑOR HAGAN.
In spite of Del Norte’s menacing words, Frank slept well that night.
In the morning the Mexican met Merry with the politest manner possible
and with the blandest smile. Indeed, his air was one of cordiality, and
apparently he declined to be snubbed when Frank gave him something like
the cold shoulder.
After breakfast Del Norte was set ashore at Fishmarket Wharf, and he
presented an air of tropical comfort as he slowly sauntered into town
attired in spotless white garments.
Proceeding to the post office, he had paused to purchase a paper at the
news stand in the building when a hand touched him on the arm and he
glanced up to see at his side a thick-set, florid-faced man, who was
perspiring freely.
“Ah, Señor Hagan!” exclaimed Porfias, at once turning and grasping the
hand of the stout man. “It’s pleased I am to see you here. I received
your letter telling me how the good work is progressing, and it
interested me exceedingly. You are doing well.”
“There are some things I didn’t care to write about, Del Norte,” said
the man addressed as Hagan. “That’s why I told you I would find you down
this way somewhere and have a little chat with you. I traced the
_Sachem_ to this place, arriving here last night. Not wishing to arouse
suspicions of a certain party on board the _Sachem_, I decided to wait
and watch for an opportunity to see you. Had the _Sachem_ departed
before I could obtain such an opportunity, I should have followed it to
its next port.”
“You were exceedingly cautious, señor.”
Observing that the smooth-faced, youthful attendant at the news stand
was regarding them with some curiosity, Hagan at once proposed to his
companion that they should step outside.
“Never knew they had such devilish hot weather up here at this time of
year,” he growled, mopping his perspiring face with his handkerchief as
they reached the sidewalk. “Let’s walk up the street beneath the shade
of those tall elms. We can chat as we walk without danger of being
overheard. That youngster has a sharp nose, a keen pair of eyes, and
ears altogether too good to suit me.”
“These confounded gringos seem to hear and see everything,” said Del
Norte.
“That’s all right,” nodded Hagan; “but they can’t get ahead of the
Irish, Del Norte, old man.”
“It’s the truth you speak, señor,” nodded the Mexican. “I have observed
its truthfulness, and that was why I sought one to assist me in my plans
who had in his veins good Irish blood.”
“You made no mistake on that point when you dropped on me,” said Hagan.
“I am Irish to the core. But let me tell you, my friend, we’re going to
be kept mighty busy if we get ahead of this Yankee, Merriwell. He is a
hustler. He has a faculty of setting things in motion so that they keep
on moving while he seems to forget them. Apparently just now he is
enjoying an outing on a yacht, yet before he stepped foot on the
_Sachem_ he had started a movement that is progressing with astonishing
rapidity. I refer to the scheme for opening Eastern Sonora with a
railroad. The syndicate is being organized, the capital pledged, and
everything is making ready to push the project. Del Norte, I want you to
answer me one question frankly and squarely.”
“You shall have the answer, Señor Hagan. What is the question?”
“Are you absolutely confident you can induce the Mexican government to
reaffirm that old land grant?”
“I am absolutely confident, señor. There is not the remotest doubt of my
ability to accomplish this. I have friends who are powerful with their
influence and who stand close to President Diaz. Of course, they can’t
push this thing through with a rush, for he might suspect something was
not right if they seemed too eager. They are biding their time, and when
the right moment comes President Diaz will reaffirm that grant of land.”
“Unless,” said Hagan, as they walked slowly along the sidewalk—“unless
he favors this American syndicate organized by Merriwell. Del Norte, the
operations of that syndicate must be checked. They are moving altogether
too rapidly. That’s why I came here to see you. Before it became known
that a project for building a railroad through Central Sonora to tap the
Sonora line had been conceived, the men first concerned in the syndicate
sent engineers down there and made a survey. They worked swiftly and
quietly. Frank Merriwell paid a large part of the expense of this
survey, and he has the result of it in his own possession. He has the
papers. I believe he has them with him now.”
“What makes you think so?” asked Del Norte quickly.
“I think he brought them along with the idea that he might interest
Henry Crossgrove.”
“Perhaps it’s right you are.”
“Yes, I believe I am right, Del Norte. That’s why I took the trouble to
come ’way down here. I didn’t wish to write anything that might fall
into the hands of the wrong people and make trouble for us, but I have a
plan I desire to whisper in your ear. Lend me your ear, Del Norte, and I
will do the whispering act.”
“It’s aloud you may talk, señor, if you modulate your voice, without
fear of being overheard. We will walk up and down here in front of this
church as you talk. No one may come near us to listen.”
“It’s not a great deal I wish to say, Del Norte; but if by any means we
can get our hands on that document it would give us a big advantage over
the enemy. They would lose the plan, and we would secure it. If it
pleased us we could push our work by their own survey just as soon as we
were given the privilege to begin by the Mexican government. Thus, you
see, Del Norte, we would save a pretty penny and give the enemy a
solar-plexus blow.”
The dark eyes of the Mexican were gleaming now, and there was a strange,
crafty smile on his lips.
“You are right, Señor Hagan; but it may not be with any great ease that
one could secure those papers. This Merriwell is cautious, and I fancy
he guards them constantly.”
“From what I have seen of you, Del Norte, me man,” said Hagan, “you’re
the boy to get ahead of a chap like Merriwell. You’re slick and smooth
as they make ’em, and if you set about it I will guarantee you will find
out where those papers are carried in less than two days. It then
remains for you to get possession of them without detection. Get ashore
with them, and mail them to our headquarters in New York. Once they are
in the hands of the post office authorities you are all right. Then you
can laugh defiance in the teeth of Frank Merriwell.”
“Quite so,” nodded the Mexican. “But I should hate to do the laughing as
openly as you propose, Señor Hagan. They say this Merriwell sometimes
strikes, and strikes hard. I don’t care to have him strike me. But let
me tell you he must guard himself every moment, or I may find my
opportunity to strike him. I have now a double reason for hating him.”
“A double reason?” said Hagan. “Why, you Mexicans are queer. I don’t
hate the boy. I rather admire him. All the same, I shall take great
satisfaction in downing him as hard as I can.”
“I have not told you one reason why I hate him. I will tell you: On
board that yacht is the most beautiful American girl it has ever been my
pleasure to behold. She is the affianced of this American. Is it strange
I should hate him for his good fortune when I tell you that I love her?”
“Come, come, Del Norte!” exclaimed Hagan, “don’t get mixed up in a love
affair just now. You have something else on your hands if you are going
to get ahead of Frank Merriwell.”
“To-day,” said Del Norte, “this afternoon we go up yonder upon the
mountain. Señorita Inza will go with us. Up there, as you may see, are
many steep precipices. Would it be strange, indeed, if sometime to-day
Señor Merriwell should slip and fall over one of those precipices? They
tell me that a girl once fell from the higher mountain and was killed. A
cross stands at the top of the cliff over which she fell. Ha! ha! ha! I
wonder if they would put up a cross on the smaller mountain should Señor
Merriwell fall to his death from a high cliff?”
Hagan gave a little shrug with his thick shoulders.
“Why, hang you, Del Norte!” he exclaimed. “I believe you would commit
murder if you had a first-class opportunity and you could get an enemy
out of the way by it!”
“I don’t like the word murder, Señor Hagan. It has a very bad sound to
the ear. I have not spoken of such a thing. I said this smart American
might slip and fall. Of course I would have nothing to do with it. Oh,
no! Of course I would try to save him as he was going over. I would
spring to clutch him. I would be horrified by the terrible disaster. I
would weep and tear my hair, and offer Señorita Inza my sympathy and
consolation. I would tell her how grand and noble I thought the poor
youth and how deeply I regretted his untimely death.”
“Say, you’re the limit!” growled Hagan. “Better be careful, man. Murder
will out, you know.”
“Not always—not when cleverly done,” retorted Del Norte. “Thousands of
murders have remained a mystery for all time. It’s only the fools and
bunglers who are caught. They are in the vast majority, and therefore it
comes that most people believe murder can’t be concealed. Let a man of
brains commit the deed, and in almost every instance he covers his
tracks so beautifully, so completely, that the mystery remains unsolved
forever. In most cases, you know, a murder proclaims it is such upon its
face. When it can be made to look like suicide or accident, then
suspicions are lulled and investigations are lax. Don’t worry about me,
Señor Hagan. I am altogether too wise to be caught. You have proposed to
me a plan of securing certain papers. How much easier this plan may be
carried out if the possessor of those papers should meet with a sudden
and terrible death! It would create consternation among his companions
and friends. For the time being they would think of nothing else. His
valuables would be forgotten. If the desired papers were removed they
would not be missed for some time. Ah! you see, Señor Hagan—you see?”
“By the sod of old Erin, I see that you’re one of the slickest devils I
have ever had the luck to encounter! Why, you talk of murders with a
ring of music in your voice. You smile as sweetly as a child when you
discuss such things. Look here, Del Norte, if the time ever comes when I
think you have anything against me, confound your soul! I will not wait
for you to get at me, but I will shoot you in cold blood. I will take no
chances with you unless I am plumb anxious to die.”
Again the Mexican laughed softly.
“That time will never come, Señor Hagan. There should be no cause for
it, so do not worry. Leave everything to me. You are anxious to secure
those papers, and I promise you we will have them before two more days
have passed. With Merriwell himself out of the way, all our troubles
will be ended. His mine shall become ours. I will make you rich, my
Irish comrade. You shall be what they now call a money king.”
Then, strangely enough, following close the look of anticipated triumph
on Del Norte’s face came a shadow of sadness that was softly pathetic.
The corners of his mouth drooped a little, and there seemed to be a
faint mist in his dark eyes.
“But I,” he murmured—“though I possess millions I shall never be
satisfied unless some day I claim as my own the beautiful Señorita
Inza.”
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