In a country where witnesses to a crime are imprisoned along with the
principals and kept more or less indefinitely in jail, a man thinks
twice before he reports to the police.
With four dead Mexicans to the Yaqui's account, and Del Ray in charge
of the district, Hooker followed his second thought--he said nothing,
and took his chances on being arrested for murder. Until far into the
night Amigo busied himself along the hillside, and when the sun rose
not a sign remained to tell the story of the fight.
Men, horses, saddles, and guns--all had disappeared. And, after packing
a little food in a sack, Amigo disappeared also, with a grim smile in
promise of return.
The sun rose round and hot, the same as usual; the south wind came up
and blew into a bellying mass of clouds, which lashed back with the
accustomed rain; and when all the earth was washed clean and fresh the
last trace of the struggle was gone. Only by the burns on his hands was
Hooker aware of the fight and of the treachery which had reared its
head against him like a snake which has been warmed and fed.
Nowhere but in Mexico, where the low _pelado_ classes have made such
deeds a subtlety, could the man be found to dissimulate like that
false assassin-in-chief. To pause suddenly in a protracted speech,
swing over and pick up a gun, and halt his victim for the shooting by
the preparatory click of the lock--that indeed called for a brand of
cunning rarely found in the United States.
There was one thing about the affair that vaguely haunted Hooker--why
was it that a man so cunning as that had failed to load his gun? Twice,
and with everything in his favor, he had raised his rifle to fire; and
both times it had snapped in his hands. Certainly he must have been
inept at arms--or accustomed to single-shot guns.
The reputed magic of the swift-firing rifles evidently had been his
undoing, but where had he got his new gun? And who was he, anyway? With
those two baffling questions Bud wrestled as he sat beside his door,
and at evening his answer came.
The sun was swinging low and he was collecting wood down the gulch for
a fire when, with a sudden thud of hoofs, a horseman rounded the point
and came abruptly to a halt. It was Aragon, and he was spying on the
camp.
For a full minute he scanned the house, tent, and mine with a look so
snaky and sinister that Bud could read his heart like a book. Here was
the man who had sent the assassins, and he had come to view their work!
Very slowly Bud's hand crept toward his six-shooter, but, slight as was
the motion, Aragon caught it and sat frozen in his place. Then, with an
inarticulate cry, he fell flat on his horse's neck and went spurring
out of sight.
The answer to Bud's questions was very easy now. The Mexican who had
led the attempt on his life was one of Aragon's bad men, one of the
four gunmen whom Hooker had looked over so carefully when they came to
drive him from the mine, and Aragon had fitted him out with new arms to
make the result more sure. But with that question answered there came
up another and another until, in a sudden clarity of vision, Bud saw
through the hellish plot and beheld himself the master.
As man to man, Aragon would not dare to face him now, for he knew that
he merited death. By his sly approach, by the look in his eyes and the
dismay of his frenzied retreat, he had acknowledged more surely than
by words his guilty knowledge of the raid. Coming to a camp where he
expected to find all dead and still, he had found himself face to face
with the very man he had sought to kill. How, then, had the American
escaped destruction, and what had occurred to his men?
Perhaps, in his ignorance, Aragon was raging at his hirelings because
they had shirked their task; perhaps, not knowing that they were dead,
he was waiting in a fever of impatience for them to accomplish the
deed. However it was, Bud saw that he held the high card, and he was
not slow to act.
In the morning he saddled up Copper Bottom, who had been confined to
the corral for weeks, and went galloping into town. There he lingered
about the hotel until he saw his man and started boldly toward him.
Surprise, alarm, and pitiful fear chased themselves across Aragon's
face as he stood, but Bud walked proudly by.
"Good morning, _señor_!" was all Bud said, but the look in his eyes was
eloquent of a grim hereafter.
And instead of hurrying back to guard his precious mine Hooker loitered
carelessly about town. His mine was safe now--and he was safe. Aragon
dared not raise a hand. So he sat himself down on the broad veranda and
listened with boyish interest to Don Juan's account of the war.
"What, have you not heard of the battle?" cried portly Don Juan,
delighted to have a fresh listener. "Agua Negra has been taken and
retaken, and the railroad will soon be repaired. My gracious! have you
been out in the hills that long? Why, it was two weeks ago that the
rebels captured the town by a _coup_, and eight days later the Federals
took it back.
"Ah, there has been a real war, Mr. Bud! You who have laughed at the
courage of the Mexicans, what do you think of Bernardo Bravo and his
men? They captured the last up train from Fortuna; loaded all the men
into the ore-cars and empty coaches; and, while the Federals were still
in their barracks, the train ran clear into the station and took the
town by storm.
"And eight days later, at sundown, the Federals took it back. Ah, there
was awful slaughter averted, _señor_! But for the fact that the fuse
went out the two hundred Yaqui Indians who led the charge would have
been blown into eternity.
"Yes, so great was the charge of dynamite that the rebels had laid in
their mine that not a house in Agua Negra would have been left standing
if the fuse had done its work. Two tons of dynamite! Think of that, my
friend!
"But these rebels were as ignorant of its power as they were of
laying a train. The Yaquis walked into the town at sundown and found
it deserted--every man, woman, and child had fled to Gadsden and the
rebels had fled to the west.
"But listen, here was the way it happened--actually, and not as common
report has it, for the country is all in an uproar and the real facts
were never known. When Bernardo Bravo captured the town of Agua Negra
the people acclaimed him a hero.
"He sent word to the junta at El Paso and set up a new form of
government. All was enthusiasm, and several Americans joined his ranks
to operate the machine guns and cannon. As for the Federals, they
occupied the country to the east and attempted a few sallies, but as
they had nothing but their rifles, the artillery drove them back.
"Then, as the battle ceased, the rebels began to celebrate their
victory. They broke into the closed _cantinas_, disobeying their
officers and beginning the loot of the town, and while half of their
number were drunk the Federals, being informed of their condition,
suddenly advanced upon them, with the Yaquis far in the lead.
"They did not shoot, those Yaquis; but, dragging their guns behind
them, they crept up through the bushes and dug pits quite close to the
lines. Then, when the rebels discovered them and manned their guns,
the Yaquis shot down the gunners.
"Growing bolder, they crept farther to the front--the rebels became
disorganized, their men became mutinous--and at last, when they saw
they would surely be taken, the leaders buried two tons of dynamite in
the trenches by the bull-ring and set a time-fuse, to explode when the
Yaquis arrived.
"The word spread through the town like wildfire--all the people, all
the soldiers fled every which way to escape--and then, when the worst
was expected to happen, the dynamite failed to explode and the Yaquis
rushed the trenches at sundown."
"Did those Yaquis know about the dynamite?" inquired Bud.
"Know?" repeated Don Juan, waving the thought away. "Not a word! Their
commanders kept it from them, even after they discovered the mine. And
now the Indians are making boasts; they are drunk with the thought of
their valor and claim that the rebels fled from them alone.
"The roadmaster came into town this morning on a velocipede and said
that the Yaquis are insufferable, thinking that it was their renown as
fighters and not the news of the dynamite that drove all the soldiers
from town.
"However, Agua Negra is once more in the hands of the government; the
track is clear and most of the bridges repaired; so why quarrel with
the Yaquis? While they are, of course, nothing but Indians, they serve
their purpose in battle."
"Well, I guess yes!" responded Bud warmly. "Serve their purpose,
eh? Where were these Mexican soldiers and them Spanish officers when
the Yaquis were taking the town? And that was just like a dog-goned
Mexican--setting that time-fuse and then not having it go off. More'n
likely the poor yap that fired it was so scairt he couldn't hold a
match--probably never lit it, jest dropped the match and run. They're
a bum bunch, if you want to know what I think. I'd rather have a Yaqui
than a hundred of 'em!"
"A hundred of whom?" inquired a cool voice behind him, and looking up
Hooker saw the beautiful Gracia gazing out at him through the screen
door.
"A hundred Mexicans!" he repeated, and Gracia murmured "Oh!" and was
gone.
"Miss Aragon is very loyal to her country," observed Don Juan, but
Hooker only grunted.
Somehow, since those four Mexicans had come to his camp, he had soured
on everything south of the line; and even the charming Gracia could
not make him take back his words. If she had intended the remark as a
challenge--a subtle invitation to follow her and defend his faith--she
failed for once of her purpose, for if there was any particular man in
Mexico that Bud hated more than another it was her false-hearted father.
Hooker had, in fact, thought more seriously of making her a half-orphan
than of winning her good-will, and he lingered about the hotel, not to
make love to the daughter, but to strike terror to Aragon.
The company being good, and a train being expected soon, Bud stayed
over another day. In the morning, when he came down for breakfast, he
found that Aragon had fled before him. With his wife Juan, daughter,
and retinue, he had moved suddenly back to his home. Hooker grinned
when Don told him the news.
"Well, why not?" he asked, chuckling maliciously. "Here it's the
middle of the rainy season and the war going on all summer and nary
a rebel in sight. Where's that big fight you was telling about--the
battle of Fortuna? You've made a regular fortune out of these refugees,
Brachamonte, but I fail to see the enemy."
"Ah, you may laugh," shrugged the hotel-keeper, "but wait! The time
will come. The rebels are lost now--some day, when you least expect
it, they will come upon us and then, believe me, my guests will be
glad they are here. What is a few weeks' bill compared to being held
for ransom? Look at that rich Señor Luna who was here for a time in
the spring. Against my advice he hurried home and now he is paying the
price. Ten thousand pesos it cost to save his wife and family, and for
himself and son his friends advanced ten thousand more. I make no evil
prophecies, but it would be better for our friend if he stayed on at my
poor hotel."
"Whose friend?" inquired Bud bluffly, but Don Juan struck him upon the
back with elephantine playfulness and hurried off to his duties.
As for Hooker, he tarried in town until he got his mail and a copy of
the Sunday paper and then, well satisfied that the times were quiet and
wars a thing of the past, he ambled back to the Eagle Tail and settled
down for a rest.
Flat on his back by the doorway, he lay on his bed and smoked, reading
his way through the lurid supplement and watching the trail with one
eye. Since the fight with Aragon's Mexicans all his apprehensions had
left him. He had written briefly to Phil and Kruger, and now he was
holding the fort.
It had been a close shave, but he had escaped the cowardly assassins
and had Aragon in his power--not by any force of law, but by the force
of fear and the gnawing weakness of Aragon's own evil conscience.
Aragon was afraid of what he had done, but it was the suspense which
rendered him so pitiable. On a day he had sent four armed Mexicans
to kill this Texan--not one had returned and the Texan regarded him
sneeringly. This it was that broke the Spaniard's will, for he knew not
what to think. But as for Bud, he lay on his back by the doorway and
laughed at the funny page.
As he sprawled there at his reading, Amigo came in from the hills, and
he, too, was content to relax. Gravely scanning the colored sheet, his
dark face lighted up.
It was all very peaceful and pleasant, but it was not destined to last.