On the morning after they had laughed at the comic paper and decided
that all the world was fair, Hooker and Amigo were squatting by the
fire and eating a man's-size breakfast.
The creek, swollen by yesterday's torrential rain, had settled to a
rivulet. The wind had not risen and the sun was just over the hill
when, with a rush and a scramble, Amigo threw down his cup and was off
in a flash for the rocks.
A moment later two men rode down the cañon, and then two more, and two
more. It was a column of men, all armed with rifles, and they cast
envious eyes at Copper Bottom as they halted before the camp. As for
Bud, he saluted gravely, for he knew them for what they were.
These were the lost forces of Bernardo Bravo and Salazar, Rojas, and
the other bandit chiefs, and they marched, as he well knew, upon
Fortuna. They marched quietly, and the great whistle had not blown.
It would make a rich prize, Fortuna, if they could take it by surprise!
The ransom for the Spanish _haciendados_ alone would amount to
thousands of dollars, and the mine-owners could afford to pay anything
in order to save their works.
A box of dynamite under the giant concentrator and the money would be
produced at once and yet the scoundrels halted at a one-man camp to
steal a single horse!
A flicker of scorn passed over Hooker's face as the leader came dashing
up, but the Texan greeted him with a slow smile.
"_Buenos dias_, general!" he said. "You have many men."
"Enough!" observed the "general" hurriedly. "But some in the rear are
on foot. As I suppose you are in sympathy with our great cause, I will
ask you for that horse. Of course, I will give you a receipt."
He fetched out a blank-book as he spoke and motioned to a ragged beggar
at his heels. Bud checked the man's rush with a look.
"One moment!" he said, and as the soldier turned back his general
glanced up sharply.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Only this, Señor General," answered Bud. "You are welcome to anything
I have--food, blankets, money--but I cannot give you that horse."
"But, _señor_," protested the general, regarding him with arrogant pig
eyes that glinted wickedly, "this poor soldier's feet are sore. Surely
you would not make him walk. Only name your price and I will give you a
receipt for him, but my man must have the horse."
There was a pause and men began to dismount and move in closer. At a
word from their commander any one of them would draw and kill him, as
Hooker very well knew, but his love for Copper Bottom made him obdurate.
"If the man is lame," he said, "I will give him another horse--but he
cannot have this sorrel."
He stepped quickly over to the corral and turned with his back to the
gate, while the commander spat out orders in Spanish and armed men came
running.
"_Señor_," he said, advancing bruskly upon the defiant Hooker, "I must
trouble you for that pistol."
"No, _señor_!" answered the cowboy, keeping his hand upon his gun, "not
to you nor no man--and I'll never give it up to a Mexican!"
"_Carái!_" exclaimed the officer impatiently, "you are an
_Americano_--no?"
"Not only that," rumbled Bud, drawing himself up in his pride, "I am a
_Tejano_ also, and if any man touches that horse I'll kill him!"
His voice trembled with anger, but his hand was steady and the Mexicans
did not deceive themselves.
"Ha, _uno Tejano_!" murmured the men who stood about, and one or two
who had started to climb the fence thought better of it and dropped
back to the ground.
Bud knew the fate of several men who had proclaimed themselves
Americans to the _insurrectos_--boastfully done, it was said to be
the quickest way there was of drawing a Mexican bullet. But to be a
Texan was different--somehow the very name suggested trouble to their
minds and an Alamo fight to the death. Hooker saw that he had made an
impression, and he was not slow to follow it up.
"If you need a horse," he said to the general, "let your man go up that
arroyo and he will find one hobbled on the flat. Then give me your
receipt for two hundred dollars gold and I will contribute a saddle."
It was a reasonable concession, under the circumstances, and, best of
all, it saved the general's face. The hideous frown with which he had
regarded the American changed suddenly to a look of pompous pride. He
jerked an imperious head at his ragged retainer and drew forth his
receipt-book with a flourish.
While he waited for the horse to appear he turned upon his snooping
men and drove them to their mounts with curses. Evidently it was no
sinecure to command in the army of the liberation, and the veiled
mutterings of his followers showed that they were little better than
tigers in leash.
Mounted upon horses, mules, and even burros, armed with every
conceivable weapon from a musket to standard repeating rifles, they
were a tatterdemalion army, more fit for "treason, strategems, and
spoils" than the sterner duties of war.
Bud looked them over closely, well satisfied to have his back against
a wall, and when the low-browed retainer came hurrying back with the
horse he quickly took the worthless receipt and watched them on their
way. Then, as the last camp-follower disappeared, he ran for his saddle
and rifle and within a minute he was mounted and away.
There were rebels below him--very likely there were more to come--the
only safe place for Copper Bottom was over the hills at Fortuna.
Without stopping for path or trail he headed straight north-west over
the ridges, riding as the cowboys do when they rake the range for
cattle. Hardly had he topped the first high crest when he came in sight
of Amigo, loaded down with his cartridge-belts and carrying his heavy
Mauser.
In a long, shambling trot the Yaqui was drifting along the hillside
with the free grace of a wild creature, and when Hooker pulled down his
horse to keep pace with him he laughed and motioned him on. Taking the
lead, he loped on over hogback and _barranca_, picking out the best
trail by instinct and setting such a pace that Bud was hard-pressed to
keep up with him.
He had heard it said that in the Yaqui country no white man, no matter
how well he was mounted, could outdistance the Indians on foot, and now
he knew it was true. But why this killing haste on the part of Amigo?
He had neither friends nor kin in town; why, then, should he run so
fast to warn them of the enemy?
They racked on, up one hill and down another, while the _insurrectos_
followed the cañon that swung to the south, and finally, in a last
scramble, they mounted a rocky ridge and looked down upon Old Fortuna.
Already the hard-driven peons were out in the fields at work and smoke
was rising from the _mescal_ still. Aragon was busy, but his labors
would be worse than wasted if the red-flaggers took him prisoner. As
Bud breathed his horse he hesitated whether to ride back and warn him
or press on and notify Fortuna; but even for that brief spell the Yaqui
could not wait.
"_Adios_," he said, coming close and holding out his black hand; "I go
this way!" And he pointed along the ridge.
"But why?" said Bud, still at a loss to account for his haste. Then,
seeing the reticence in the Indian's eyes, he thrust out his hand in
return.
"_Adios, amigo mio!_" he replied, and with a quick grip the Yaqui was
gone.
With that same deceptive speed he shambled through the bushes, still
lugging the heavy rifle and making for higher ground. Bud knew he had
some purpose--he even had a sneaking idea that it was to take pot-shots
at Captain del Rey--but six months in Mexico had made him careless, and
he half hoped the Yaqui would win.
The _capitan_ had it coming to him for his brutality, but with Aragon
it was different--Aragon had a wife and daughter--and, with the memory
of Gracia in his mind, Bud sent his horse plunging down the ridge to
warn them before it was too late.
There were some brush fences to be jumped, but Copper Bottom took them
flying, and as they cut into the river trail he made the mud-puddles
splash. Across the fields to the south Bud could see the peons running
for cover--the _insurrectos_ must be in sight beyond the hills.
He was going south, they were moving west, but it was five miles north
again to the town. Speed was what was needed and Copper Bottom gave his
best. They dashed into Fortuna like a whirlwind, and Hooker raised his
voice in a high yell.
"_Insurrectos!_" he shouted. "_La drones! Pr-onto á_ Fortuna!"
There was a hush, a moment's silence, and then heads appeared from
every window and women ran screaming with the news. Aragon came rushing
from the store and confronted him angrily; then, reading conviction in
his tones, he called for horses and ran frantically into the house.
A shrill screech came from the hillside, where a serving-woman had
scampered to view the valley, and, as she pointed her finger and
screamed, mothers laid hold of their little ones and started up the
valley on foot.
Still the men ran about in the horse-pen and Aragon adjured his
womenfolk in the house. Burning with impatience, Bud spurred his way to
the corral where they were fumbling with reata and rigging and dropped
a rope on the first horse he saw. Then he snatched a side-saddle from
a trembling peon and slapped it on the brute's back. Grabbing up the
bridle, he led the horse back to the house and bridled it while he
shouted for haste.
Still the women tarried, and the sound of galloping came from the
south. Then, as all seemed lost, the Mexicans came bumping out from
the stable with the family coach, Aragon and his wife leaped in, and
Gracia, neatly attired in a riding-skirt, came tripping down the steps.
Even in such times as these she seemed to realize her first duty to
herself, and Hooker had to gaze for a moment before he helped her up.
She offered her foot and vaulted lightly into the saddle; the coach
went pounding on ahead; and as the servants scattered before her she
galloped off at the side of Bud.
Behind them the rumble of distant hoofs rose up like the roaring of
waters, and the shrieks of fleeing women echoed from the roadside,
but once safely in the cañon their lead was never lessened and, with
coach-horses galloping and postilions lashing from both sides, the
whole cavalcade swept into the plaza while the town of Fortuna went mad.
Already the great whistle was blowing hoarsely, its deep reverberations
making the air tremble as if with fear. Americans were running back
and forth, distributing arms and rushing their women to cover; Don
Juan, his chin quivering with excitement, was imploring all comers to
be calm; and the Aragons, coming flying up to the door, added the last
touch to the panic.
They with their own eyes had seen the rebels; they were riding in from
the south! Other men, equally excited, swore they were coming from the
north, and a disorderly body of Sonoran miners, armed as if by magic
with guns which had long lain hidden, banked themselves about the store
and office and clamored for more and more cartridges. Then a rip of
gun-fire echoed from across the cañon, and the miners made a rush to
the attack.
The whistle, which had obscured all sound as a cloud obscures the
light, stopped suddenly in its roar, and the crowd at the hotel became
calm. The superintendent, a wiry, gray-haired little man with decision
in every movement, came running from his fortlike house on the hill and
ordered all the women to take shelter there and take their children
with them.
So, while the rifles rattled and stray bullets began to knock mud from
the walls, they went straggling up the hill, rich and poor, patrician
and peon, while the air was rent by the wails of the half-Indian
Mexican women who held themselves as good as captured by the
_revoltosos_, concerning whose scruples they entertained no illusions.
The women of the aristocracy bore themselves with more reserve, as
befitting their birth and station, and the Americans who gathered
about them with their protecting rifles pretended that all would be
well; but in the mind of everyone was that same terror which found
expression in the peon wail and, while scattered rebels and newly armed
miners exchanged volleys on both sides of the town, the non-combatant
Americans sought out every woman and rushed her up to the big house.
There, if worst came to worst, they could make a last stand, or save
them by a ransom.
So, from the old woman who kept the candy stand in the plaza to the
wives of the miners and the cherished womenfolk of the landowners,
they were all crowded inside the broad halls of the big house; and
seventy-odd Americans, armed with company rifles, paced nervously
along the broad verandas or punched loopholes in the adobe walls that
enclosed the summer-garden behind.
Along with the rest went Hooker and Gracia, and, though her mother
beckoned and her father frowned sternly, the wilful daughter of the
Aragons did not offer to leave him as they scampered up the hill. In
fact, she rode close beside him, spurring when he spurred and, finally,
when the shower of stray bullets had passed, she led on around the
house.
"Won't you help me take my horse inside the walls?" she asked. Bud
followed after her, circling the fortress whose blank adobe walls gave
shelter to the screaming women, and she smiled upon him with the most
engaging confidence.
"I know you will have to go soon," she said, "and I suppose I've got
to be shut in with those creatures, but we must be sure to save our
horses. Some bullets might hit them, you know, and then we could not
run away!
"You remember your promise!" she reminded, as Bud gazed at her in
astonishment. "Ah, yes, I knew you did--otherwise you would not
have picked such a good horse for me. This roan is my father's best
riding-horse. You must put yours inside the wall with him, and when the
time is right we will get them and ride for the line."
"What?" cried Hooker incredulously, "with the country full of rebels?
They're liable to take the town in half an hour!"
"No, indeed they will not!" responded Gracia with spirit. "You do not
understand the spirit of us Sonorans! Can't you see how the firing has
slackened? The miners have driven your rebels back already, and they
will do more--they will follow them up and kill them! Then, when the
rebels are in flight and Del Rey and his _rurales_ are away, that will
be a good time for us to slip off and make our dash for the line!"
"Nothing doing!" announced Hooker, as he dismounted at the corral. "You
don't know what you're talking about! But I will leave my horse here,"
he added. "I sure don't want _him_ to get hurt."
"But you promised!" protested Gracia weakly.
"Promised nothing!" retorted Bud ungraciously. "I promised to take care
of you, didn't I? Well, what's the use of talking, then? You better
stay right here, where you're safe. Come on, let's go to the house!"
"No!" cried Gracia, her dark eyes turning misty with imminent tears.
"Oh, Mr. Hooker!" she burst out, "didn't I keep them all waiting while
I put on this riding-skirt? I thought you had come to take me away!
What do I care to be safe? I want to be free! I want to run away--and
go across the line to dear Phil!" she faltered. Then she looked up at
him sharply and her voice took on an accusing tone.
"Aha!" she said, as if making some expected discovery, "so _that_ is
it! I thought perhaps you were _afraid_!"
"What?" demanded Bud, put suddenly upon the defensive.
"I might have known it," soliloquized Gracia with conviction. "You are
jealous of dear Phil!"
"Who? Me?" cried Hooker, smiling down at her grimly. "Well, let it
go at that," he said, as she regarded him with an arch smile. "I'd
certainly be a fool to take all those chances for nothing. Let him
steal his own girl--that's what I say!"
"Now that, Mr. Hooker," burst out Gracia in a passion, "is very
unkind--and rude! Am I a woman of the town, to be stolen by one man or
another? Am I--"
"That's what you would be," put in Bud, with brutal directness, "if
these rebels got hold of you. No, ma'am, I wouldn't take you out of
this town for a hundred thousand dollars. You don't know what you're
talking about, that's all! Wait till the fighting is over--Gee! Did you
hear that? Come on, let's get into the house!"
He ducked suddenly as a bullet went _spang_ against the corrugated
iron roof above them and, seizing her by the hand, he half dragged her
through a side door and into the summer garden.
Here a sudden outcry of women's voices assailed their ears like a
rush of wind and they beheld peon mothers running to and fro with
their screaming children clasped to their breasts or dragging at their
skirts. A few helpless men were trying to keep them quiet, but as the
bullets began to thud against the adobe walls the garden became a
bedlam.
Gracia stood and surveyed the scene for a moment, ignoring the hulking
Bud with disdainful eyes. Then she snatched her hand indignantly away
and ran to pick up a child. That was all, but Hooker knew what she
thought of him.
He passed through the house, hoping to discover where she had gone,
but all he heard was her commanding voice as she silenced the wailing
women, and, feeling somehow very much out of place, he stepped forth
into the open.
After all, for a man of his build, the open was best. Let the
white-handed boys stay with the ladies--they understood their ways.