The soldier called softly, and three or four men in uniform appeared
amidst the banana leaves. "It seems," he said, "the Colonel Morales is
anxious about the hacienda."
Harper glanced at his comrade ruefully, but an inspiration dawned on
Appleby. "One appreciates his solicitude. It is conceivable that your
comrades would know what to do with a bottle or two of cana. A little is
beneficial when one has passed the night in the open. There was, I
think, a heavy dew."
"With thanks, but it is not permitted," said the man. "We did not,
however, leave Santa Marta until there was a little light in the sky."
"Colonel Morales was good enough to send a strong detachment?"
The soldier shook his head. "A section of the Barremeda company," he
said. "The Sergeant Hernando was to follow with a few files when he came
in from picket duty. One does not understand it, for the country is
quiet now, but one asks no questions of an officer."
"It is not usually advisable," said Appleby with a smile. "Still, if you
change your mind about the cana you can come up to the hacienda and ask
for me."
He swung round, and five minutes later sat down on a truck on the tram-
line. Harper leaned against it, and looked at him.
"I guess Morales means to make sure of us," he said. "Well, we can only
hope for Maccario. You couldn't ask him if the men you sent got
through?"
"I made the venture, and he told me. It was last night I sent the men
out, and the cazadores only started this morning. Morales blundered
then, but it is rather more than likely he couldn't help himself. Nobody
would call him timid, but just now it would have been a risky thing for
him to go back to Santa Marta alone."
Harper nodded. "There's not much you don't think of," he said. "Still,
it seems to me quite likely that Maccario can't get through."
"Then so far as you and I are concerned I'm afraid the game is played
out," said Appleby.
Harper pulled out his cigar case and wrenched it open. "Take a smoke,"
he said. "I don't feel like talking just now."
He sat down on a sleeper with his back to a wheel, while Appleby lay
upon the truck with a cigar, which went out in his hand, gazing across
the sunlit cane. It rose about him breast-high, a crude glaring green,
luminous in its intensity of color, against the blueness above it, but
Appleby scarcely saw it, or the gleaming lizard which lay close by
suspiciously regarding him. He had made a very bold venture, and though
Harding might yet benefit by it, he could realize the risk that he and
his comrade ran.
There was, however, consolation in the thought that Morales could not
have known he had sent for the Sin Verguenza, or he would have flung a
company of cazadores into the hacienda. A few resolute men could,
Appleby fancied, hold it against a battalion, for there were no openings
but narrow windows, and those high up, in the outer walls, while, if the
defenders tore the veranda stairway up, the patio would be apt to prove
a death-trap to the troops that entered it. It also seemed to him that,
now the prospect of complications with the Americans would everywhere
stir the insurgents to activity, Morales would scarcely have men to
spare for a determined assault upon the hacienda.
The longer Appleby reflected the more sure he felt that he had made a
wise decision. It had, however, cost him an effort to face the risk, and
now he wondered a little at his own fearlessness. He who had hitherto
haggled about trifles and pored over musty papers in a country
solicitor's office had been driven into playing a bold man's part in the
great game of life, and the reflection brought him a curious sense of
content. Even if he paid the forfeit of his daring, as it seemed he
would in all probability do, he had, at least, proved himself the equal,
in boldness of conception and clearness of vision, of men trained to
politics and war, and he found the draught he had tasted almost
intoxicating.
The exhilaration of it had vanished now, but the vague content remained
and blunted the anxieties that commenced to creep upon him. Still, he
fell to wondering where Maccario was, and how long it would take him to
reach San Cristoval, for Morales would demand his answer soon after
nightfall He lay very still while the shadow of the cane grew narrower,
until the sun shone hot upon his set brown face, and then slowly stood
up.
"I think we will go back and pay the men," he said. "The few pesetas
mean a good deal to them, and I would sooner they got them than
Morales."
They went back together silently, and the whistle shrieked out its
summons when the mill stopped for the men's ten o'clock breakfast.
Appleby drew them up as they came flocking in and handed each the little
handful of silver due to him.
"You will go back to work until the usual hour," he said. "If all goes
well you will begin again to-morrow, but this is a country in which no
one knows what may happen."
The men took the money in grave wonder, and Appleby, who did not eat
very much, sat down to breakfast, but both he and Harper felt it a
relief when the plates were taken away.
"You will keep them busy, if it is only to stop them talking," he said.
"I have wasted too much time already, and if I am to straighten up
everything by this evening there is a good deal to do."
Harper went out, and Appleby, sitting down in his office, wrote up
accounts until the afternoon. He dare leave no word for Harding, but
that appeared unnecessary, for if Harding found San Cristoval in the
possession of the Sin Verguenza he would, Appleby felt certain,
understand and profit by the position. The room resembled an oven, and
no more light than served to make writing possible entered the closed
lattices; but with the perspiration dripping from him Appleby toiled on,
and the last Spanish dollar had been accounted for when Harper and the
man who carried the comida came up the stairway. Then it was with a
little sigh he laid down his pen and tied the neatly engrossed documents
together. The life he led at San Cristoval suited him, and now he was to
turn his back on it and go back once more, a homeless and penniless
adventurer, to the Sin Verguenza. Glancing up he saw Harper leaning on a
bureau and looking at him.
"That's another leaf turned down," he said. "A good deal may happen to
both of us before to-morrow."
Harper nodded gravely. "Oh yes," he said. "That's why I'm going to make
a kind of special dinner. I don't think I had much breakfast, and I
don't quite know when we may get another."
The dinner he had given the cook instructions concerning was rather more
elaborate than usual, and flasks of red and amber wine stood among the
dishes and the piled-up fruit. Neither of them had much to say, but they
ate, and when very little remained on the table Harper leaned back in
his chair with a smile of content.
"That's one thing Morales can't take away from me, and I guess it should
carry me on quite a while," he said.
They lay still, cigar in hand, for the most part of an hour and then as
the sunlight faded from the patio Harper appeared to grow restless.
Appleby watched him with a little smile.
"You don't seem quite easy," he said.
Harper stared at him, and then broke into a somewhat hollow laugh. "It's
a fact," he said. "I was kind of wondering if it wasn't time Pancho or
one of the other men came back. I guess one could see them on the tram-
line from the roof. Morales will be here in an hour or two."
He went out, and Appleby sat still, not because that was pleasant, but
because he felt the necessity of holding himself in hand. He desired to
retain a becoming tranquillity, and now he could only wait found that
the tension was growing unendurable. There was no sound in the patio,
where the light was failing, but he could hear Harper's footsteps on the
flat roof above, and found himself listening eagerly as his comrade
paced up and down. He stopped once, and Appleby felt his heart beating,
for it seemed that something had seized Harper's attention. The
footsteps, however, commenced again, and then Harper, who appeared to
stop once more for a second, came hastily down the outside stairway.
Appleby felt his fingers trembling, and it was only by effort he sat
still instead of moving to the door to question him. If Harper had seen
anything it was evident his comrade would hear of it in a moment or two.
He came on down the stairway, and when he reached the veranda Appleby
closed one hand as he moved in his chair, but Harper passed on down the
lower stairway, and Appleby sat still again, while a curious little
shiver ran through him. Half an hour had elapsed before his comrade came
in again and flung himself down in the nearest chair. He shook his head
disgustedly, and his face was very grim.
"No sign of Pancho, and I'm not going back," he said. "I guess watching
for folks who don't come gets kind of worrying. There's another thing. I
went prospecting down the tram-line, and found that sergeant had brought
his men closer in."
"I could have told you that," said Appleby. "If I had thought we could
have got away I would scarcely have been quietly sitting here."