a law against it. Let me call and talk it over, at least. I know all
about marriage--I've been around so many married people. Promise?"
"I cannot let you 'call,' as you say. Besides, for two weeks yet I must
remain here alone with Stephanie." She regarded him mournfully. "Every
day I must do my penance, and think of my sins, and--perhaps look for
orchids."
He saw the light that flickered in the depths of her velvet eyes, and
his heart pounded violently at the unspoken invitation.
"To-morrow?" he inquired, breathlessly. "Do you intend to hunt orchids
to-morrow?"
Instead of answering she started to her feet with a little cry, and he
did likewise. Back of them had sounded an exclamation--it was more like
the snort of a wild animal than a spoken word--and there, ten feet
away, stood a tall, copper-colored negress, her eyes blazing, her
nostrils dilated, a look of utmost fury upon her face. She was fully as
tall as Kirk, gaunt, hook-nosed, and ferocious. About her head was
bound a gaudy Barbadian head-dress, its tips erect like startled ears,
increasing the wildness of her appearance.
"Stephanie!" exclaimed the girl. "You frightened me."
The negress strode to her, speaking rapidly in Spanish, then turned
upon Kirk.
"What do you want here?" she cried, menacingly. She had thrust her
charge behind her and now pierced him with her eyes.
"Miss Chiquita--" he began, at which that young lady broke into another
peal of silvery laughter and chattered to her servant. But her words,
instead of placating the black woman, only added to her fury. She
pointed with quivering hand to the path along the creek-bank and cried:
"Go! Go quick, you man!" Then to her charge: "You bad, BAD! Go to the
house."
"Miss Chiquita hasn't done anything to make you huffy. I came out of
the woods yonder and she was good enough to direct me to the road."
But Stephanie was not to be appeased. She stamped her flat foot and
repeated her command in so savage a tone that Kirk perceived the
uselessness of trying to explain. He looked appealingly at the girl,
but she merely nodded her head and motioned him to be gone.
"Very well," he said, regretfully. "Thank you for your assistance,
miss." He bowed to the little figure in blue with his best manner and
took up his gun. "This way out! No crowding, please."
"Adios, Senor Antonio," came the girl's mischievous voice, and as he
strode down the path he carried with him the memory of a perfect oval
face smiling at him past the tragic figure of the Bajan woman. He went
blindly, scarcely aware of the sun-mottled trail his feet were
following, for his wits were a-flutter and his heart was leaping to
some strange intoxication that grew with every instant.
It threatened to suffuse him, choke him, rob him of his senses; he
wanted to cry out. Her name was Chiquita. He repeated it over and over
in time to his steps. Was there ever such a beautiful name? Was there
ever such a ravishing little wood-sprite? And her sweet, hesitating
accent that rang in his ears! How could human tongue make such
caressing music of the harshest language on the globe? She had called
him "Senor Antonio," and invited him to come again to-morrow. Would he
come? He doubted his ability to wait so long. Knowing that she agreed
to the tryst, no power on earth could deter him.
What a day it had been! He had started out in the morning, vaguely
hoping to divert his mind with some of those trite little happenings
that for lack of a better term we call adventures in this humdrum
world. And then, with the miraculous, unbelievable luck of youth, he
had stumbled plump into the middle of the most wondrous adventure it
was possible to conceive. And yet this wasn't adventure, after all--it
was something bigger, finer, more precious. With a suddenness that was
blinding he realized that he was in love! Yes, that was it, beyond the
shadow of a doubt. This mischief-ridden, foreign-born little creature
was the one and only woman in the world for whom the fates had made him
and brought him across two oceans.
That evening he sat for a long time alone on the gallery of his hotel,
his spirit uplifted with the joy of it, a thousand whispering voices in
his ears. And when at last he fell asleep it was to dream of an olive,
oval face with eyes like black pansies.
XIV
THE PATH THAT LED NOWHERE
When "Senor Antonio" awoke the next morning he lay for an instant
striving to recall what it was that had haunted his sleeping hours,
what great event awaited him. Then, as it rushed through his mind, he
leaped out of bed and dashed headlong into the bath-room. This was
to-morrow! It had been ages in coming--he recalled how even his
slumbers had dragged--but it was here at last, and he would see
Chiquita.
He sang as he stepped under his shower, and whistled blithely as he
dressed himself. What a glorious country this Panama was, anyhow! How
good it was to be young and to be in love! He never had been so happy.
A man must be in love to sing before breakfast. But the afternoon was
still a long way off, and he must be content to dream until the hour
came.
He was too early for the Cortlandts, and he breakfasted alone. When he
strolled out upon the veranda for his smoke he found Allan waiting for
him, as usual. The Jamaican had not missed a morning so far, and it was
only by a show of downright firmness that Kirk had been able to get rid
of him at any time during the day. The black boy seemed bent upon
devoting his every waking hour to his hero, and now, finding himself
regarded with friendly eyes, he expanded joyously.
"Got you some games yesterday?" he inquired.
"Yes. And I'm going again to-day."
"Plenty games over yonder is, but it is very fatiguing to get them.
To-day I go along for showing you the way."
"Not a bit like it. I'm going alone."
"Oh no, boss!"
"Oh yes, boss! I accidentally shot the last man I hunted with--killed
him." Kirk stared tragically at his companion, but Allan was not to be
so easily deterred.
"I shall pahss behind you, boss."
"I'd love to have you, of course--but I'm too careless."
"Praise God, you must not go h'alone in that case, or something will
befall you! I shall h'imitate the birds and call them out before you to
fire at."
"Fire AT! I don't fire at things, I hit 'em."
"Yes, sar. In that case we shall procure plenty of games."
"See here! I'm going alone, understand? I have an engagement with a
Naiad."
"'Ow much a month will you be getting for such h'engagements?"
"Naiads don't pay in money, they give you smiles and kind words."
"Better you continue then as train collector. There is great
h'opportunity for stealing."
"My job won't be ready for a few days, and meanwhile I have become a
huntsman. I intend to go out every afternoon."
"H'afternoons is no good for wild h'animals; they are sleeping. Walk
they in the h'early morning, for the most part, very quietly."
"That's true of some wood creatures, but the kind I hunt dance along
the edges of pools in the afternoon. Say, did you ever feel like
dancing?"
"No, sar."
"Come around on the back porch and I'll teach you a buck-step. I feel
too good to sit still."
But Allan refused this proffer firmly. Such frivolous conduct was
beneath his dignity.
"I 'ave h'important things to disclose," he said, mysteriously.
"Indeed."
"Yes, sar. Last night I dreamed."
"You've got nothing on me; so did I."
"I am walking on the h'edge of the h'ocean when I h'encountered a
whale--a 'uge whale."
"Swam ashore to rest, I suppose?"
"No, sar; he was dead. It was very vivid."
"Well, what has a vivid dead whale to do with me?"
"This!" Allan brought forth a sheet of paper, which he unfolded
carefully. "There is the number--the 'fish number,' sar."
"Why, this is a Chinese lottery advertisement."
"I got it for the very purpose. It would pay us to h'invest some money
on the 'fish number.'"
"Nonsense! I don't believe in dreams. You say yourself they are false."
"Never such a dream as this, boss. It was very vivid."
"I've got no money."
Allan folded the paper disconsolately and thrust it into his pocket.
"It is fartunate h'indeed," said he, "that you will be working soon,
Master h'Auntony. And those P. R. R. was very fartunate also for
getting you to h'accept a position, very fartunate h'indeed."
"Do you think I will raise the standard of efficiency?"
"Most of those railroad persons are vile people. They threw me h'off
the train with such violence that my joints are very stiff and
h'inflamed. I should h'enjoy being boss over them for a while."
"Why don't you ask for a job?"
"I have decided to do so, and I am asking you now for an h'engagement
as brakesman."
"I can't hire you. Go to the office."
"Probably there are h'already brakesmen on your train."
"I have no doubt."
"In that case I shall ride with you as private person."
"Ride back and forth every day?"
"Those are my h'expectations, sar."
"That costs money."
"You will be collector," remarked the negro, calmly. "I should like to
see those train people h'expel me, in that case."
"Well! I can see trouble ahead for one of us," laughed Anthony. "They
don't allow 'dead-heads.'"
But Allan replied with unshaken confidence: "Then you should secure for
me a pahss."
Kirk found it extremely difficult to escape from his persistent shadow
that afternoon, and he succeeded only after a display of armed
resistance.
It was the hottest part of the day when he set out, gun on arm, yet he
never thought of the discomfort. After skirting the city, he swung into
the fine macadam road that had brought him home the night before, and
much sooner than he expected he arrived at the little path that led
into the forest. He knew that he was trespassing again, and the
knowledge added to his delight. As quickly as possible he lost himself
in the grateful shade and followed the stream-bank with beating heart.
His head was full of vague hopes and plans. He meant to learn the true
story of Miss Chiquita's penance and find some means of winning her
away from that other lover, of whom he had already thought more than
once. He determined to make his love known without delay and establish
himself as a regular suitor.
As upon the previous day, he broke into the glade before he suspected
its presence, to find the same golden light-beams flickering in the
shadowed depths and to hear the little waterfall chuckling at his
surprise. There was the tree from which she had called to him, yonder
the bench where they had sat together.
Of course, he was too early--he wanted to be, in order not to miss an
instant of her company, so he seated himself and dreamed about her. The
minutes dragged, the jungle drowsed. An hour passed. A thousand fresh,
earthy odors breathed around him, and he began to see all sorts of
flowers hidden away in unsuspected places. From the sunlit meadows
outside came a sound of grazing herds, the deep woods faintly echoed
the harsh calls of tropic birds, but at the pool itself a sleepy
silence brooded.
Once a chattering squirrel came bravely rustling through the branches
to the very edge of the enchanted bower, but he only sat and stared a
moment in seeming admiration, then retreated quietly. A yellow-beaked
toucan, in a flash of red and black and gold, settled upon a mirrored
limb; but it, too, stilled its raucous tongue and flitted away on
noiseless pinions as if the Naiads were asleep.
In the moist earth beside the bench Anthony saw the print of a dainty
boot, no longer than his palm, and he promptly fell into a rhapsody.
What tiny hands and feet she had, to be sure, and such a sweetly
melancholy face! Yet she was anything but grave and gloomy. Why, the
sunlight dancing on that waterfall was no more mischievous and merry
than she. The slight suggestion of sadness she conveyed was but the
shadow of the tropic mystery or the afterglow of the tragedy that had
played so large a part in this country's history. The fact that she was
half American perhaps accounted for her daring, yet, whatever the other
strain, it could not be ignoble. Mrs. Cortlandt's figure of the silver
threads in a rotting altar-cloth recurred to him with peculiar force.
But why didn't she come? A sudden apprehension overtook him, which grew
and grew as the afternoon wore away.
It was a very miserable young man who wandered out through the fragrant
path, as the first evening shadows settled, and bent his dejected steps
toward the city. Evidently something had occurred to prevent her
keeping her tryst, but he determined to return on the morrow, and then
if she did not come to follow that other path right up to the house,
where he would risk everything for a word with her. He wondered if she
had stayed away purposely to test him, and the thought gave him a
thrill. If so, she would soon learn that he was in earnest; she would
find him waiting there every afternoon and--after all, why confine
himself to the afternoon when she was just as likely to appear in the
morning? He resolved to go hunting earlier hereafter, and give the
whole day to it. Meanwhile, he would make cautious inquiries.
It was considerably after dark when he reached the hotel, and his
friends had dined; but he encountered Mr. Cortlandt later. If Edith's
husband suspected anything of what had occurred a night or two ago, his
countenance gave no sign of it. For some reason or other, Kirk had not
been troubled in the slightest by the thought that Cortlandt might be
told. He could not imagine Edith making him the confidant of her
outraged feelings. Besides, would such a strangely impassive person
resent any little indiscretion in which his wife might choose to
indulge? Kirk did not know--the man was a puzzle to him.
Cortlandt's voice was thoroughly non-committal as he inquired:
"Where have you been keeping yourself?"
"I've been hunting, to kill time."
"Any luck?"
"No, none at all. I started too late, I guess."
"By-the-way," continued the other, "your friend Allan has been
besieging Edith, imploring her to use her influence to get him a
position. He has set his heart upon going to work with you."
"He is becoming a positive nuisance. I can't get rid of him."
"I never saw such hero-worship."
"Oh, all niggers are hysterical."
"Let me give you a bit of advice, Anthony. Remember there are no
'niggers' and 'whites' in this country--they are both about equal. The
President of the republic is a black man, and a very good one, too."
"That reminds me. I hear he is to be succeeded by the father of my
friend, Alfarez."
Cortlandt hesitated. "General Alfarez is a candidate. He is a very
strong man, but--"
"I am glad there is a 'but.'"
"It isn't settled, by any means. The successful candidate will need the
support of our government."
"I suppose the Alfarez family is one of the first settlers--Mayflower
stock?"
"Oh, worse than that. The name runs back to Balboa's time. General
Alfarez is very rich, and very proud of his ancestry. That is one thing
that makes him so strong with the people."
"What are some of the other leading families?" Kirk artfully inquired.
"There are a number. The Martinezes, the Moras, the Garavels--I
couldn't name them all. They are very fine people, too."
"Do you know the Chiquitas?"
Cortlandt's face relaxed in an involuntary smile.
"There is no such family. Who has been teaching you Spanish?"
"Really, isn't there?"
"'Chiquita' means 'very small,' 'little one,' 'little girl,' or
something like that. It's not a family name, it's a term of endearment,
usually."
Kirk remembered now how the girl's eyes had danced when she asked him
if he spoke her language. It was just like her to tease him, and yet
what a pretty way to conceal her identity!
"What made you take it for a proper name?"
"A-a little girl told me."
"Oh, naturally. All children are 'Chiquitas' or
'Chiquitos'--everything, in fact, that is a pet."
Kirk felt somewhat uncomfortable under the older man's gaze of quiet
amusement.
"But these other families," he went on in some confusion--"I mean the
ones like those you just mentioned--they sometimes intermarry with
Americans, don't they?"
"No, not the better class. There have been a few instances, I believe,
but for the most part they keep to themselves."
"How would a fellow set about meeting the nice people."
"He wouldn't. He would probably live here indefinitely and never see
the inside of a Panamanian house."
"But there must be some way," the young man exclaimed in desperation.
"There must be dances, parties--"
"Of course, but Americans are not invited. The men are easy to get
acquainted with, charming, courteous, gentlemanly, but I dare say you
will leave Panama without so much as meeting their wives or sisters.
But why this consuming curiosity? Has some senorita struck your fancy?"
In spite of his effort to appear unconcerned, Kirk felt that he looked
abominably self-conscious. Without waiting for a reply, Cortlandt
continued to give him information as if he enjoyed it.
"I suppose one reason why so few Americans marry Panamanians is that
our men like at least to get acquainted with their brides before
marriage, and that is impossible in this country. A man never sees a
girl alone, you know. When he calls to court her he wooes the whole
family, who vote on him, so to speak. That doesn't appeal to us who
originated the mother-in-law joke. There aren't many Northern chaps who
would consent to select a wife by pointing her out like a bolt of
calico on a top shelf."
Kirk suddenly realized to the full how egregious his request to call
must have appeared to the Spanish girl. What a fool he had been, to be
sure! For a moment he lost himself in a contemplation of the
difficulties so unexpectedly presented. He was brought to himself by
the words:
"--to-morrow you will go to work."
"What's that?" he broke forth in a panic. "I can't go to work
to-morrow; I'm going hunting."
Cortlandt eyed him curiously.
"I didn't say to-morrow. I said Runnells 'phoned that he would be ready
for you day after to-morrow. What is the matter with you? Have you lost
your head over shooting, or don't you care to work?"
"Oh, neither," he said, hastily. "I merely misunderstood you. Of
course, the sooner the better."
"Yes, as you say, the sooner the better," said Cortlandt, with a shade
of meaning. "Well, good-night, and good-luck to you in your shooting!"
It was with much less self-assurance that Kirk set out again on the
next morning, for this was his last day of grace, and he realized that
unless he accomplished something definite it might be a considerable
time before he could continue his quest. In view of what the girl had
said regarding her engagement, delays seemed particularly dangerous.
He haunted the vicinity of the meeting-place all the morning, but no
one came, and a heavy shower at midday drove him into the palm-thatched
hut for shelter. When it had passed he put an end to his indecision and
boldly took the other path. At least he would find out where she lived
and who she was. But once again he was disappointed. The trail led out
through the grove to the rain-drenched pasture, where it disappeared,
and, instead of one house, he saw three, half hidden in foliage and all
facing in the opposite direction. They stood upon the crest of a hill
fronting the road, and he realized that the pool might be the
bathing-place for the inmates of one or all of them.
Up past the grazing stock he went and around to the front of the
nearest residence, which proved to be a low, rambling, bungalow affair
with many outhouses smothered in a profusion of vines and fruit-trees.
Evidently it was unoccupied, for heavy wooden shutters barricaded the
windows, and no one answered his knock, although some pigeons perched
upon the tile roof cooed at him in a friendly manner. He struck across
lots to the next house, but met with no better success, and he
approached the third dwelling with a certain hesitation, for it was his
last chance. It was more pretentious than the rest, and stood proudly
upon the highest point of the ridge, up which ran a private road
guarded by twin rows of stately royal palms, whose perfectly rounded
trunks seemed to have been turned upon some giant lathe. The house
itself was large, square, and double-galleried. It was shaded by lofty
hard-wood trees and overlooked a sort of formal garden, now badly in
need of care. The road was of shell, and where it entered the grounds
passed through a huge iron gate suspended upon concrete pillars. The
whole place had an air of wealth and exclusiveness.
Here, too, the windows stared at him blindly, and he saw no evidence of
occupation; yet he advanced and pounded vigorously on the door. Failing
to rouse any one, he paused to take a general view of the surroundings.
Scattered upon every side were other winter homes, some bleaching
nakedly in the open, others peeping out from luxuriant groves, some
mean and poor, others really beautiful and impressive. He knew that he
was in the heart of Panama's exclusive winter colony, where her wealthy
residents came to avoid the heat.
Unwilling to acknowledge himself beaten, he plodded from one place to
another, calling at all the nearest houses, finding most of them
locked, and begging a glass of water where he chanced to be more
fortunate. Nowhere did he see the girl or the Barbadian woman, nowhere
did he receive an intelligible answer to his questions. The caretakers
looked upon him with suspicion, and made it known that he was
unwelcome, while their women retreated at sight of him. Even the
children were unfriendly. Once, indeed, he heard the name that had been
ringing so steadily in his ears, and it gave him a wild thrill until he
discovered that it was only a negress calling to her child. Afterward
it seemed that he heard it everywhere. On his disconsolate journey home
it was spoken twenty times, being applied indifferently to dogs, cats,
parrots, and naked youngsters, each mention causing him to start and
listen.
Whether the girl had been playing with him, or whether she had been
prevented from keeping her word, was of little moment now. He loved her
and he intended to have her! He shut his teeth grimly and made a vow to
find her if he had to invade every home in Las Savannas, or pull apart
the walls of Panama.
XV
ALIAS JEFFERSON LOCKE
It was fortunate for Kirk, on the whole, that his last expedition had
proved a failure, for his methods were none of the most discreet; and
it was as well, perhaps, that his work on the railroad intervened to
prevent further wild incursions.
He was detailed to ride No. 2, which left Panama at 6.35, returning on
No. 7, which arrived at 7.00 P.M. For a few days he made the run in
company with the train collector, whose position he was destined to
fill; and, as the duties were by no means difficult, he quickly
mastered them. He had quarters assigned to him, and regretfully took
leave of his luxurious room and bath at the Tivoli. He also donned cap
and linen uniform, and became an insignificant, brass-tagged unit in
the army of Canal workers. Ordinarily he would have resented this loss
of individuality, but the novelty of the thing appealed to him, and he
brought a great good-nature to his work, deriving sufficient amusement
from it to prevent it from growing tiresome.
For a time it offended his fastidious taste to be forced to elbow his
way through superheated coaches jammed with shrieking, cackling,
incoherent negroes. They were all utterly hysterical, and apparently
possessed but one stubborn idea--to refuse payments of fares. But in
time he grew to enjoy even this.
He was glad of his new-found independence, moreover, for, though it did
not cancel his obligation to the Cortlandts, it made him feel it less
keenly. As for his quarters, they were quite tolerable--about the same
as he had had at boarding-school, he reflected, and the meals were
better. They were not quite up to Sherry's or Martin's, it was true,
but they cost only thirty cents, and that had advantages. Certainly he
could not complain of a lack of incident in his new life. On his first
trip to Colon and back he had nine disputes and two fights, and threw
one man off--a record achievement, he was told, for a beginner.