IX

Not the least of the causes which have brought Mexico to the brink of

the abyss is the endless quarrel between church and state, which has

almost destroyed the sanctity of marriage and left, besides, a pitiful

heritage of deserted women and fatherless children as its toll.

Many an honest laborer has peoned himself to pay the priest for his

marriage, only to be told that it is not legal in the eyes of the law;

and many another, married by the judge, has been gravely informed by

the _padre_ that the woman is only his mistress, and the children born

out of wedlock.

So that now, to be sure that she is wedded, a woman must be married

twice, and many a couple, on account of the prohibitive fees, are never

married at all.

Cruz Mendez was no different from the men of his class, and he believed

honestly that he was married to the comely Maria; but Hooker could have

enlightened him on that point if he had cared to do it.

Bud was playing a game, with the Eagle Tail mine for a stake; and,

being experienced at poker, he stood pat and studied his hand. Without

doubt Mendez had lost his usefulness as a locator of the mine, since

Maria was not his legal wife and could not sign the transfer papers

as such. According to the law of the land, the woman now living with

Aragon's _mayordomo_ was the "legitimate" wife of the contract, and she

alone could release the title to the mine once Mendez denounced the

claim.

But Mendez had not yet denounced the claim--though for a period of some

thirty days yet he had the exclusive privilege of doing so--and Bud did

not intend that he should.

Meanwhile they must walk softly, leaving Aragon still to hug the

delusion that he would soon, through his _mayordomo_, have them in his

power--and when the full sixty days of Cruz Mendez's mining permit had

expired they could locate the mine again.

But how--and through whom? That was the question that Bud was studying

upon when Phil rode up the trail, and in his abstraction he barely

returned his gay greeting.

"Well, cheer up, old top!" cried De Lancey, throwing his bridle-reins

to the ground and striding up to the tent. "What ho, let down

the portcullis, me lord seneschal! And cease your vain repining,

Algernon--our papers are all O.K. and the lawyer says to go ahead. But

that isn't half the news! Say, we had a dance up at the hotel last

night and I met--"

"Yes--sure you did," broke in Bud; "but listen to this!" And he told

him of El Tuerto's matrimonial entanglements.

"Why, the crooked devil!" exclaimed De Lancey, leaping up at the

finish. "_Oyez!_ Mendez!"

"Don't say a word," warned Bud, springing to the tent door to intercept

him, "or you'll put us out of business! It is nothing," he continued

in Spanish as Mendez came out of his house, "but put Don Felipe's horse

in the corral when he is cool."

"_Sí, señor_--with great pleasure!" smirked Mendez, running to get the

horse, and after he had departed Bud turned back and shook his head.

"We can't afford to quarrel with Mr. Mendez," he said; "because if

Aragon ever gets hold of him we're ditched. Jest let everything run on

like we'd overlooked something until the sixty days are up--then, if we

get away with it, we'll locate the mine ourselves."

"Yes; but how?"

"Well, the's two ways," returned Bud; "either hunt up another Mexican

citizen or turn Mexican ourselves."

"Turn Mexican!" shrilled Phil, and then he broke down and laughed.

"Well, you're a great one, Bud," he chortled; "you sure are!"

"I come down here to get this mine," said Bud laconically.

"Yes, but you're a Texan--or was one!"

"That makes no difference," answered Bud stoutly. "The hot weather is

coming on--revolution is likely to begin any time--and there ain't

a single Mexican we can trust. Jest one more break now and we lose

out--now how about it?"

"Who's going to turn Mexican," questioned De Lancey, "you or me?"

"Well--_I_ will, then!"

"No, you won't, either!" cried Phil, forgetting his canny shrewdness.

"I'll do it myself! I'm half Mexican already, I've been eating chili

so long!"

"Now here," began Bud, "listen to me. I've been thinking this over all

day and you jest heard about it. The man that turns Mexican is likely

to get mixed up with the authorities and have to skip the country, but

the other feller is in the other way--he's got to stay with the works

till hell freezes over.

"Now you're an engineer and you know how to open up a mine--I don't.

So, if you say so, I'll take out the papers and you hold the mine--or

if you want to _you_ can turn Mex."

"Well," said De Lancey, his voice suddenly becoming soft and pensive,

"I might as well tell you, Bud, that I'm thinking of settling in this

country, anyway. Of course, I don't look at Aragon the way you do--I

think you are prejudiced and misjudge him--but ever since I've known

Gracia I've--"

"Gracia!" repeated Bud; and then, stirred by some great and unreasoning

anger, he rose up and threw down his hat pettishly. "I'd think, Phil,"

he muttered, "you'd be satisfied with all the other girls in the world

without--"

"Now here!" shouted Phil, rising as unreasoningly to his feet, "don't

you say another word against that girl, or I'll--"

"Shut your mouth, you little shrimp!" bellowed Bud, wheeling upon him

menacingly. "You seem to think you're the only man in the world that--"

"Oh, slush, Bud!" cried Phil in disgust. "You don't mean to tell me

you're in love with Gracia too!"

"Who--me?" demanded Hooker, his face suddenly becoming fixed and

mask-like; and then he laughed hoarsely in derision and sank down on

the bed.

Certainly, of the two of them, he was the more surprised at his sudden

outbreak of passion; and yet when the words were spoken he was quick to

know that they were true.

Undoubtedly, in his own way, he was in love--but he would never admit

it, that he knew, too. So he sank down on the blankets and swore

harshly, while De Lancey stared at him in unfeigned surprise.

"Well, then," he went on, taking Bud's answer for granted, "what're you

making such a row about? Can't I go to a dance with a girl without you

jumping down my throat?"

"W'y, sure you can!" rumbled Bud, now hot with a new indignation. "But

after getting me to go into this deal against my will and swearing me

to some damn-fool pledge, the first thing you do is to make friends

with Aragon and then make love to his daughter. Is that your idea of

helping things along? D'ye think that's the way a pardner ought to act?

No, I tell you, it is not!"

"Aw, Bud," protested De Lancey plaintively, "what's the matter with

you? Be reasonable, old man; I never meant to hurt your feelings!"

"Hurt my feelings!" echoed Hooker scornfully. "Huh, what are we down

here for, anyway--a Sunday-school picnic? My feelings are nothing,

and they can wait; but we're sitting on a mine that's worth a million

dollars mebbe--and it ain't ours, either--and when you throw in with

old Aragon and go to making love to his daughter you know you're not

doing right! That's all there is to it--you're doing me and Kruger

dirt!"

"Well, Bud," said De Lancey with mock gravity, "if that's the way you

feel about it I won't do it any more!"

"I wish you wouldn't," breathed Bud, raising his head from his hands;

"it sure wears me out, Phil, worrying about it."

"Well, then, I won't do it," protested Phil sincerely. "So that's

settled--now who's going to turn Mexican citizen?"

"Suit yourself," said Bud listlessly.

"I'll match you for it!" proposed De Lancey, diving into his pocket for

money.

"Don't need to," responded Bud; "you can do what you please."

"No; I'll match you!" persisted Phil. "That was the agreement--whenever

it was an even break we'd let the money talk. Here's your quarter--and

if I match you I'll become the Mexican citizen. All set? Let 'er go!"

He flipped the coin into the air and caught it in his hand.

"Heads!" he called, without looking at it. "What you got?"

"Heads!" answered Bud, and Phil chucked his money into the air again

and laughed as it dropped into his palm.

"Heads she is again!" he cried, showing the Mexican eagle. "I never

did see the time when I couldn't match you, anyway. So now, old socks,

you can keep right on being a Texan and hating Mexicans like horny

toads, and I'll denounce the Eagle Tail the minute the time is up. And

I won't go near the Aragon outfit unless you're with me--is that a go?

All right, shake hands on it, pard! I wouldn't quarrel with you for

anything!"

"Aw, that's all right," mumbled Bud, rising and holding out his hand.

"I knowed you didn't mean nothing." He sat down again after that and

gazed drearily out the door.

"Say, Bud," began Phil, his eyes sparkling with amusement, "I've got

something to tell you about that dance last night. If I didn't put the

crusher on Mr. Feliz Luna and Manuel del Rey! Wow! I sure wished you

were there to see me do it.

"This Feliz Luna is the son of an old sugar-planter down in the hot

country somewhere. He got run out by the _revoltosos_ and now he's

up here trying to make a winning with Gracia Aragon--uniting two

noble families, and all that junk. Well, sir, of all the conceited,

swelled-up little squirts you ever saw in your life he's the limit, and

yet the old man kind of favors him.

"But this Manuel del Rey is the captain of the _rurales_ around here

and a genuine Mexican fire-eater--all buckskin and fierce _mustachios_,

and smells like chili peppers and garlic--and the two of 'em were

having it back and forth as to who got the next dance with Gracia.

"Well, you know how it is at a Mexican dance--everybody is supposed

to be introduced to everybody else--and when I saw those two young

turkey-cocks talking with their hands and eyebrows and everybody else

backing off, I stepped in close and looked at the girl.

"And she's some girl, too, believe me! The biggest brown eyes you ever

saw in your life, a complexion like cream, and hair--well, there never

was such hair! She was fanning herself real slow, and in the language

of the fan that means: 'This don't interest me a bit!' So, just to show

her I was wise, I pulled out my handkerchief and dropped it on the

floor, and when she saw me she stopped and began to count the ribs in

her fan. That was my cue--it meant she wanted to speak with me--so I

stepped up and said:

"'Excuse me, _señorita_, but while the gentlemen talk--and if the

_señora_, your mother, will permit--perhaps we can enjoy a dance?'

"And say, Bud, you should have seen the way she rose to it. That girl

is a sport, believe me, and the idea of those two _novios_ chewing the

rag while she sat out the dance didn't appeal to her at all. So she

gave me her hand and away we went, with all the old ladies talking

behind their fans and Manuel del Rey blowing up like a volcano in a

bunch of _carambas_ or worse. Gee, it was great, and she could dance

like a queen.

"But here's the interesting part of it--what do you think she asked me,

after we'd had our little laugh? Well, you don't need to get so grouchy

about it--she asked about you!"

"Aw!"

"Yes, she did! So you see what you get for throwing her down!"

"What did she ask?"

"Well, she asked--" here he stopped and laughed--"she asked if you were

a cowboy!"

"No!" cried Bud, pleased in spite of himself. "What does she know about

cowboys?"

"Oh, she's wise!" declared Phil. "She's been to school twice in Los

Angeles and seen the wild West show. Yes, sir, she's just like an

American girl and speaks English perfectly. She told me she didn't like

the Mexican men--they were too stuck on themselves--and say, Bud, when

I told her you were a genuine Texas cowboy, what do you think she said?"

"W'y, I don't know," answered Bud, smiling broadly in anticipation;

"what did she say?"

"She said she'd like to know you!"

"She did not!" came back Bud with sudden spirit.

Though he laughed the thought away, a great burden seemed to be lifted

from his heart, and he found himself happy again.

X

To an American, accustomed to getting things done first and talking

about it afterward, there is nothing so subtly irritating as the Old

World formalism, the polite evasiveness of the Mexicans; and yet, at

times, they can speak to the point with the best of us.

For sixty days Don Cipriano Aragon had smiled and smiled and then,

suddenly, as the last day of their mining permit passed by and there

was no record of a denouncement by Cruz Mendez, he appeared at the

Eagle Tail mine with a pistol in his belt and a triumphant sneer on his

lips.

Behind him rode four Mexicans, fully armed, and they made no reply to

De Lancey's polite "_Buenos días!_"

"Take your poor things," burst out Aragon, pointing contemptuously at

their tent and beds, "and your low, _pelado_ Mexican--and go! This mine

no longer stands in the name of Cruz Mendez, and I want it for myself!

No, not a word!" he cried, as De Lancey opened his mouth to explain.

"Nothing! Only go!"

"No, _señor_," said Hooker, dropping his hand to his six-shooter which

hung low by his leg and stepping forward, "we will not go!"

"What?" stormed Aragon. "You--"

"Be careful there!" warned Bud, suddenly fixing his eyes on one of the

four retainers. "If you touch that gun I'll kill you!"

There was a pause, in which the Mexicans sat frozen to their saddles,

and then De Lancey broke the silence.

"You must not think, Señor Aragon," he began, speaking with a certain

bitterness, "that you can carry your point like this. My friend here is

a Texan, and if your men stir he will kill them. But there is a law in

this country for every man--what is it that you want?"

"I want this mining claim," shouted Aragon, "that you have so unjustly

taken from me through that scoundrel Mendez! And I want you to step

aside, so that I can set up my monuments and take possession of it."

"The Señor Aragon has not been to the _agente mineral_ to-day,"

suggested De Lancey suavely. "If he had taken the trouble he would

not--"

"Enough!" cried Aragon, still trying to carry it off cavalierly. "I

sent my servant to the mining agent yesterday and he reported that the

permit had lapsed."

"If he had taken the pains to inquire for new permits, however,"

returned De Lancey, "he would have found that one has been issued to

me. I am now a Mexican citizen, like yourself."

"_You!_" screamed Aragon, his eyes bulging with astonishment; and then,

finding himself tricked, he turned suddenly upon one of his retainers

and struck him with his whip.

"Son of a goat!" he stormed. "Pig! Is this the way you obey my orders?"

But though he raved and scolded, he had gone too far, and there was no

putting the blame on his servant. In his desire to humiliate the hated

gringos he had thrown down all his guards, and even De Lancey saw all

too clearly what his intentions in the matter had been.

"Spare your cursing, Señor Aragon," he said, "and after this," he

added, "you can save your pretty words, too--for somebody else. We

shall remain here and hold our property."

"Ha! You _Americanos_!" exclaimed Aragon, as he chewed bitterly on his

defeat. "You will rob us of everything--even our government. So you

are a Mexican citizen, eh? You must value this barren mine very highly

to give up the protection of your government. But perhaps you are

acquainted with a man named Kruger?" he sneered.

"_He_ would sell his honor any time to defraud a Mexican of his rights,

and I doubt not it was he who sent you here. Yes, I have known it from

the first--but I will fool him yet!

"So you are a Mexican citizen, Señor De Lancey? _Bien_, then you shall

pay the full price of your citizenship. Before our law you are now no

more than that poor _pelado_, Mendez. You cannot appeal now to your

consul at Gadsden--you are only a Mexican! Very well!"

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled significantly.

"No," retorted De Lancey angrily; "you are right--I cannot appeal to my

government! But let me tell you something, Señor Mexicano! An American

needs no government to protect him--he has his gun, and that is enough!"

"Yes," added Bud, who had caught the drift of the last, "and he has

his friends, too; don't forget that!" He strode over toward Aragon and

menaced him with a threatening finger.

"If anything happens to my friend," he hissed, "you will have _me_

to whip! And now, _señor_," he added, speaking in the idiom of the

country, "go with God--and do not come back!"

"Pah!" spat back Aragon, his hate for the pushing foreigner showing in

every glance; "I will beat you yet! And I pray God the _revoltosos_

come this way, if they take the full half of my cattle--so long as they

get you two!"

"Very well," nodded Bud as Aragon and his men turned away, "but be

careful you do not send any!

"Good!" he continued, smiling grimly at the pallid Phil; "now we got

him where we want him--out in the open. And I'll just remember them

four _paisanos_ he had with him--they're his handy men, the boys with

nerve--and don't never let one of 'em catch you out after dark."

De Lancey sat down on a rock and wiped his face.

"Heavens, Bud," he groaned, "I never would have believed it of him--I

thought he was on the square. But it just goes to prove the old

saying--every Mexican has got a streak of yellow in him somewhere. All

you've got to do is to trust him long enough and you'll find it out.

Well, we're hep to Mr. Aragon, all right!"

"I have never seen one of these polite, palavering Mexicans yet,"

observed Bud sagely, "that wasn't crooked. And this feller Aragon is

mean, to boot. But that's a game," he added, "that two can play at. I

don't know how you feel, Phil, but we been kinder creeping and slipping

around so long that I'm all cramped up inside. Never suffered more in

my life than the last sixty days--being polite to that damn' Mexican.

Now it's our turn. Are you game?"

"Count me in!" cried De Lancey, rising from his rock. "What's the play?"

"Well, we'll go into town pretty soon," grinned Bud, "and if I run

across old Aragon, or any one of them four bad Mexicans, I'm going to

make a show. And as for that big brindle dog of his--well, he's sure

going to get roped and drugged if he don't mend his ways. Come on,

let's ketch up our horses and go in for a little time."

"I'll go you!" agreed Phil with enthusiasm, and half an hour later,

each on his favorite horse, they were clattering down the cañon. At the

turn of the trail, where it swung into the Aragon lane, Bud took down

his rope and smiled in anticipation.

"You go on ahead," he said, shaking out his loop, "and I'll try to put

the catgut on Brindle."

"Off like a flash!" answered De Lancey, and, putting the spurs to

his fiery bay, he went dashing down the street, scattering chickens

and hogs in all directions. Behind came Bud, rolling jovially in his

saddle, and as the dogs rushed out after his pardner he twirled his

loop once and laid it skilfully across the big brindle's back. But

roping dogs is a difficult task at best, and Bud was out of practise.

The sudden blow struck Brindle to the ground and the loop came away

unfilled. The Texan laughed, shifting in his saddle.

"Come again!" commented Bud, leaning sidewise as he coiled his rope,

and as the womenfolk and idlers came rushing to see what had happened

he turned Copper Bottom in his tracks and came back like a streak of

light.

"Look out, you ugly man's dog!" he shouted, whirling his rope as he

rode; and then, amid a chorus of indignant protests, he chased the

yelping Brindle down the lane and through a hole in the fence. Then,

with no harm done, he rode back up the street, smiling amiably and

looking for more dogs to rope.

In the door of the store stood Aragon, pale with fury, but Bud appeared

not to see him. His eyes were turned rather toward the house where, on

the edge of the veranda, Gracia Aragon and her mother stood staring at

his antics.

"Good morning to you, ladies!" he saluted, taking off his sombrero with

a flourish. "Lovely weather, ain't it?" And with his tongue in his

cheek and a roguish glance at Aragon, who was stricken dumb by this

last effrontery, he went rollicking after his pardner, sending back a

series of joyous yips.

"Now that sure does me good," he confided to Phil, as they rode down

between cottonwoods and struck into the muddy creek. "No sense in it,

but it gets something out of my system that has kept me from feeling

glad. Did you see me bowing to the ladies? Some class to that bow--no?

You want to look out--I got my eye on that gal, and I'm sure a hard one

to head. Only thing is, I wouldn't like the old man for a father-in-law

the way matters stand between us now."

He laughed boisterously at this witticism, and the little Mexican

children, playing among the willows, crouched and lay quiet like

rabbits. Along the sides of the rocky hills, where the peons had their

mud-and-rock houses, mothers came anxiously to open doors; and as

they jogged along up the river the Chinese gardeners, working in each

separate nook and eddy of the storm-washed creek-bed, stopped grubbing

to gaze at them inquiringly.

"Wonder what's the matter with them chinks?" observed Bud, when his

happiness had ceased to effervesce. "They sit up like a village of

prairie-dogs! Whole country seems to be on the rubber-neck. Must be

something doing."

"That's right," agreed Phil. "Did you notice how those peons scattered

when I rode down the street? Maybe there's been some _insurrectos_

through. But say--listen!"

He stopped his horse, and in the silence a bugle-call came down the

wind from the direction of Fortuna.

"Soldiers!" he said. "Now where did they come from? I was in Fortuna

day before yesterday, and--well, look at that!"

From the point of the hill just ahead of them a line of soldiers came

into view, marching two abreast, with a mounted officer in the lead.

"Aha!" exclaimed Bud with conviction; "they've started something down

below. This is that bunch of Federals that we saw drilling up at Agua

Negra."

"Yep," admitted De Lancey regretfully; "I guess you're right for

once--the open season for rebels has begun."

They drew out of the road and let them pass--a long, double line of

shabby infantrymen, still wearing their last-year's straw hats and

summer uniforms and trudging along in flapping sandals.

In front were two men bearing lanterns, to search out the way by night;

slatternly women, the inevitable camp-followers, trotted along at the

sides with their bundles and babies; and as the little brown men from

Zacatecas, each burdened with his heavy gun and a job lot of belts and

packs, shuffled patiently past the Americans, they flashed the whites

of their eyes and rumbled a chorus of "Adios!"

"_Adios, Americanos!_" they called, gazing enviously at their fine

horses, and Phil in his turn touched his hat and wished them all

God-speed.

"Poor devils!" he murmured, as the last tottering camp-followers, laden

with their burdens, brought up the rear and a white-skinned Spanish

officer saluted from his horse. "What do those little _pelónes_ know

about liberty and justice, or the game that is being played? Wearing

the same uniforms that they had when they fought for Diaz, and now they

are fighting for Madero. Next year they may be working for Orozco or

Huerta or Salazar."

"Sure," muttered Bud; "but that ain't the question. If the's rebels in

the hills, where do we get off?"