WHEREIN THE BANDIT EXPOUNDS A NEW PHILOSOPHY, AND MAKES MARIONETTES OF THE
AMERICANS
"Put all ze men outside," Lopez ordered. Venustiano and Pedro, his chief
lieutenants, obeyed at once, forcing them to march ahead of them, and
standing guard over them near a great cactus bush a few feet from the
adobe. "Leave ze women with me," the bandit continued. "But first,
Alvarada, you find ze cook. I am 'ongry."
"_Si_," answered Alvarada; and after he had made certain that Pedro and
Venustiano could handle the three men, one of whom, after all, was but an
invalid in a wheel chair, he made his way to the kitchen. He knew there
were two other companions who would help in any emergency. They slunk in
the background, cigarettes between their lips, guns always ready for
action. The house was completely surrounded.
Lucia and Angela, left alone with Lopez, revealed the deep concern they
felt. They watched the bandit as he pawed through some papers on the table.
With maddening indifference he then lighted another cigarette, and went
over to the door, looking out at the male prisoners. Finally he turned upon
them, looked them over, and remarked:
"What a pity. Only two women!"
They shuddered away from his gaze.
There was a noise from the direction of the kitchen, and Alvarada, with the
miserable little Mexican cook ahead of him, rushed in.
He was addressing him in Spanish: "_Usted si cusinero. Borachi!_"
Lopez gave one glance at the poor specimen who had charge of the kitchen.
"The cook," he laughed. "He is dronk!" He now addressed him directly: "You
are dronk," he affirmed, and stamped his foot.
Frightened, the boy cried: "No! No!" Certainly he was under the influence
of the deadly tequila; but when he saw the bandit's face, and realized that
he was in his power, he became suddenly and miraculously sober. He was
firmly convinced that his last moment on this earth had come. He knew that
a man like Lopez never hesitated to shoot to kill. He realized in the
twinkling of an eye how late it was, how the dinner had been delayed
through his drunkenness; and this visitor would brook no further waiting.
He fully expected to be shot against the door. Therefore, to save time, he
slunk to the entrance of the kitchen, placed himself against the jamb,
crossed himself, muttered a rapid, incoherent prayer in Spanish, put his
hands behind his back, closed his eyes and waited for the fatal shot that
would send him straight to hell.
But nothing happened. Lopez looked at the cook, and said casually to Pedro:
"Not till after dinner," and puffed his cigarette.
"_Despues de la comida_," said Pedro.
"I will make for you!" cried the wretched cook, opening his eyes, and so
relieved to be still alive that he could scarcely articulate.
"_Pronto_," ordered Lopez.
"_Si, Madre di Dios!_" cried the cook; and fled to his kitchen, tumbling
over himself in his eagerness to get a meal for the bandit.
There was a pause. What would Lopez do next? Kill them all? In Spanish he
began, turning to Lucia:
"_Santa Maria_--You come here."
Angela stepped forward.
"You mean me?" she asked, sweetly.
"No!" came the gruff voice of Lopez. "You!" pointing to the frightened
Lucia.
"Why do you want me?" she asked, moving slightly toward him.
"I would look at you," the bandit replied. He was appraising her already.
"Turn around." She obeyed, like an automaton, "'Ow old are you?"
She would not lie. "Twenty-four," she answered.
"Ees pretty old," laughed Lopez. "Let me see your teeth."
"My teeth!" echoed Lucia. Did he take her for a horse?
Lopez merely nodded; and, with all the self-control she could bring to her
aid, she opened her mouth and showed her wonderful teeth.
"_Si_," remarked Lopez, evidently pleased at the sight. "An' now, 'ow much
weigh?"
"I don't know exactly," Lucia said.
"What's your name?" the bandit went on.
"Lucia." "Lucia!" he rolled the name over on his tongue, and smiled.
"Lucia!" he repeated. "Ees nice name." Then, "Come 'ere. Come 'ere!" He did
not wait for her to move this time. He put out his hand and drew her close
to him. "I would see more of you," he told her. And, to her amazement and
horror, he lifted her skirt delicately, almost tenderly. Her womanhood
revolted at his action. This barbarian! She slapped his hand. But Lopez
paid no more attention to the blow than if a child had struck him. "Not
bad," he went on, indifferently, referring to her well-turned ankle. "'Ow
you like to go wiz me to Mexico? Well?" when she did not answer. "You 'eard
what I said."
That she should be insulted thus! "But--oh, I couldn't do that!" she cried
out, in terror.
"Why not?" Lopez demanded.
"I'm--married."
"Well, we will not take ze 'usband! Just you an' me. We go to ze
bull-fight. I rob ze jewelry store for you. We get plenty dronk." She
shuddered. "Sure! I show you 'ell of a good time. Well, 'ow you say?" He
glared at her, almost winked, smiled, and let a ring of smoke curl upward.
Lucia turned away, ashamed, mortified. "I never heard of such a thing!" she
cried. Lopez laughed. "Deedn't nobody ever offer you good time before?"
"Not like this." Lucia thought if he didn't stop soon, she would shriek.
"No? You 'ave been married all your life wiz one man?"
"Yes," she told him.
"My! what a rotten life you 'ave led!" the bandit commiserated her. "But
ees not too late. I shall steel save you. But you shall not sank me. Shall
not be so damn bad for me, too!"
Definite terror seized Lucia now. She knew by his tone, by his every
gesture, that he was not fooling. She had heard, had read, of men like this
Lopez. They were thick along the border. He meant business. Morgan had not
exaggerated the danger of coming down here.
"But you wouldn't do that," she cried out.
"Why not?" Lopez said.
"It's--it's wrong!"
The bandit smiled his winning smile. "Whose beeziness what we do if we like
for do him?"
"Please don't take me with you!" Lucia appealed. Why had Morgan Pell ever
brought her to this border line? She might have known better than to come.
It was no place for a young and attractive woman.
"You don't wish to go?" Lopez questioned, hardly believing that any pretty
woman could resist his charms.
"No," cried Lucia.
"You mean you wish to stay married wiz one man?"
"Ye-es," Lucia faltered.
"Never no life? Never no fun? Ha! If you was old, fat--zen, perhaps. But
young, beautiful! For why was you born if you no wish to leeve?"
"But I do wish to live!" Lucia cried in desperation; and her hands went out
in an attitude of supplication.
Lopez appraised her once more. "But when I come along an' show you 'ow you
raise 'ell and say no. Ees great honor to be took by Pancho Lopez into
Mexico. Like 'ow you say, ze decoration for ze chest," and he indicated the
spot on his coat where a war medal might be placed.
Just then, to Lucia's relief, the cook came in, bearing a tray laden with
chile con carne, bread and butter, and sugar, and placed it on the table.
His fright was still evident. His hands trembled, his legs shook.
"Ah! Ze food!" Pancho cried. "Good! Put zem zere!" he ordered; and the cook
placed the tray closer to him. Then he turned to Lucia Pell. "You shall
wait on me," he told her, as though he were conferring the greatest honor
upon her.
Angela came close to him, eager again to please him. He merely pushed her
to one side, and had eyes only for Lucia. "You!" he said, looking her
straight in the face. He sat down, and scanned the tray, while the cook
stood in terror, not daring to leave the room, but wishing to God this
moment were over. Had he forgotten anything?
"I do not see ze coffee," Pancho said at last.
"I get for you!" the cook screamed in a shrill voice, and rushed for the
kitchen.
"_Pronto_," Lopez said. Then, to Lucia, "Ze bread." She leaned over to get
a piece for him. He watched her carefully. "Your hand is shake. For why?
You 'fraid from me, perhaps?"
She admitted that she was afraid--a little.
"And why?" he inquired.
"Because I've heard that you kill people," she bravely told him.
"Oh, but that isn't so!" Angela broke in, fearful that the mere mention of
killing would bring about a murder then and there. "I'm sure it isn't!"
Nothing must be said to raise the thought in Pancho's mind.
"Why are you so sure?" Lopez demanded.
"It couldn't be! It couldn't be!" Angela declared. "Anyone so romantic as
you, so--" And she tried to look her pleasantest. He must be placated, this
wretched man.
"You are wrong," Lopez informed her, and also the entire room, "I do kill."
Lucia, who had taken a seat near him, now drew back in alarm. He was quick
to see her action.
"You need not be afraid," he heartened her. "I shall not 'urt you. That is,
not yet. The chile--" she dished some out for him, hurriedly. "So! You are
afraid of me because I kill people, eh?" He leaned back, and his lids
contracted until his eyes looked wicked and sinister. The spangles on his
sleeves trembled like leaves.
"A little," Lucia managed to say.
"You sink it wrong to kill?" Pancho wanted to know, gulping down a great
mouthful of chile, and smattering a huge slice of bread with butter. He ate
with his knife, like a glutton. He smacked his lips, and wiped them on the
sleeve of his coat, where the brass buttons gleamed picturesquely.
"You talk of killing in such a matter-of-fact way," Lucia observed.
"An' why not?" Lopez asked.
The cook brought in the coffee-pot and put it on the table.
"Does life mean as little to you as that?" Lucia asked another question.
This man was an enigma. He was bad through and through. They were as
helpless as cattle in his hands.
"Life?" Lopez smiled. "To be 'ere--zat is life. Not to be 'ere--" he gulped
down some steaming coffee--"zat is death. Life is a leetle thing--unless it
is one's own." He put the big cup down and put in four spoonfuls of sugar,
stirred it diligently, and looked around him, the wonder of a child in his
face.
"You do kill your prisoners, then?" Lucia brought out.
"Sure!" laughed Pancho.
Could she have heard aright? "You do?" she cried, and her cheeks took on an
ashen hue.
"_Ciertamente!_" the bandit stated, as though they were talking of the
weather. "You capture ze preesoner. You 'ave no jail to put 'im in. You
pack him around wiz you. If you let 'im go, 'e come back to fight you
again. So you kill him. Eet is very simple."
"But it seems so cold-blooded!" Lucia said.
"Ah! to you, perhaps! It is ze difference between zose who live in safety
and zose who live in danger. In safety you 'ave ze bill to pay. You pay it
and you forget it. In danger you 'ave enemy to kill. You kill 'im an' you
forget 'im. _Save?_" And another heaping knifeful of the chile con carne
went into his mouth.
"It's too horrible!" said Lucia; and she turned away.
"Ees life too horrible?" Pancho wanted to know.
"I never knew life was like that!" she said.
"Because you 'ave never really lived," the bandit explained. "Because you
'ave been always protect by ozzers. I kill only men. And only evil men. And
when I kill evil man, it make me very 'appy. For I 'ave did a good deed."
His simple philosophy pleased him.
"But who decides whether a man is good or evil'"
"I do!" answered Lopez, quick as a flash, and wondering how she could have
asked so stupid a question.
"Oh, do let me pour some more coffee for you!" Angela begged.
"If you wish," Lopez said, indifferently. It mattered little to him now
who waited upon him. His inner man had been partially satisfied. He leaned
back in his chair, at peace with all the world. One spurred and booted foot
was on the table.
"Oh, thank you!" Angela was all smiles. She was making headway with this
evil man. "Thank you so much," she followed up, and, standing sweetly at
his left, she poured the brown stuff into his cup. "Lovely weather, isn't
it?" she remarked. The cook took the pot from her, and went back to the
kitchen with it.
"_Si_," Lopez said. "Sit down. Sit down." Angela thought of course he was
speaking to her, and being kind to her because of her girlish attentions.
So she promptly seated herself. "No, not you!" Pancho said roughly, putting
six spoons of sugar in this second cup. "You, I mean," indicating Lucia
once more. Angela pouted, and turned her back on this bad, bad man. Pancho
never even noticed her. The more opulent beauty of Lucia appealed to the
sensuous in him. "You," he repeated. "Tell me, señora, 'ave you never been
to a free country?"
Lucia was surprised at his question.
"A free country?" she said.
"Yes; like Mexico, for instance."
"Don't you call the United States a free country?" Lucia asked him.
He almost roared his head off. "The United--Bah! Ees the most unfree
country what is. Every man, every woman, is slave--slave to law, slave to
custom, slave to everysing. You get up such time; eat such time," his hands
went out in Latin frenzy. "Every day you work such time, every night go to
bed such time. And, _Madre di Dios_, every week you take bath such time!"
This was, to him, the ultimate joke. "An' you call it a free country! Ees
only one free country. Ees one in which man does as she damn please. Like
Mexico!" he ended.
The women were astounded. They had always thought of Mexico as a land of
rough-and-tumble, comic-opera revolutions; a place where one must forever
be on the lookout for trouble; where robbers were rife and the days were
nothing but a chain of abominations. A sunny, beautiful country, maybe; but
no place for a God-fearing American citizen to settle. Why, they would as
soon commit murder in Mexico as go to market.
"Haven't you any laws in Mexico?" Lucia inquired.
"We 'ave--ze best," Lopez was swift to reply.
"But you just said--" Angela started to remind him, and took a little stool
and moved close to him, seating herself upon it. She did not want him to
forget her girlish sweetness. Lopez paid no heed to her.
"They are ze best because each man makes them for 'imself. Not like New
York, where everybody tell you what you cannot do until zere is nozzing
left what you want to do."
Angela piped up: "You've been to New York?"
"When I was agent for Madero--yes. I live at ze big hotel. I 'ave planty
money. Ees no damn prohibition. I get dronk. I 'ave 'ell of a time. Sure! I
see 'im all! New York!" he smiled in recollection.
"And you didn't like it?" Angela persisted, moving her little stool even
closer to him.
"Like it? It makes me seeck! Even beautiful woman what I see 'ave 'osband
what is afraid for 'er. Each time I get dronk comes big policeman which 'it
me on ze 'ead." He smiled at the thought, "When I go to ze teatro, ees
someone which 'ide under--ze bed. Not even can I step on ze grass
because--New York! It crush ze 'eart!" He put both hands over his chest,
and looked up at the ceiling.
"Yes!" exclaimed Angela, her stool very close to him now.
"Ees a prison for ze soul!" Lopez affirmed. "A stupid, seely place, your
New York!"
"Yes!" Angela agreed again.
"For me New York can go to 'ell just as soon as she damn please!" the
bandit let out.
"Oh, Mr. Robber!" Angela cried.
"But Mexico! How different!" Lopez said, paying no more attention to Angela
than he would to a fly.
"I'm sure it is!" the girl said.
To Lucia, Lopez went on: "You shall see! Ze beautiful woman 'ave 'osband.
But shall I not 'ave beautiful woman?"
"Oh, Mr. Bandit!" Angela put in once more.
"When we get dronk, ees not policeman which will 'it us on ze 'ead, but us
which will 'it policeman on ze 'ead." Angela chuckled at this. "In ze
teatro shall not be someone which 'ide under ze bed, but in it! You shall
see! In Mexico ze heart leap! Ze soul she is free! You can do what you
want--zat is, onless someone shoot you. Leesten, señora." He leaned close
to Lucia, who had not ventured to move, "Did you ever know the joy of
fierce leeving? Did you?"
But she did not reply. Instead, it was the impetuous Angela who answered
him:
"Yes. I mean, no!"
Lopez turned and scowled at her. "I was not spik to you," he said.
"You weren't!" Angela looked her surprise.
"_Ciertamente_ no!" the bandit said.
Angela was hurt. "But you're not cross with me, are you?" she almost wept.
"No! I am not cross wiz you! Eez zat you annoy me!" And as though she were
a doll, he pushed her from him, his big hand almost blotting out her pretty
little face. The stool and Angela fell to the floor. She was furious. The
devil in her was roused. Chagrined, she picked herself up. Her dainty plaid
frock was covered with dust. She brushed it off as best she could, and
cried:
"How dare you push my face, you bad man!"
"You should keep your face to home," Lopez answered, not turning a hair. He
hadn't meant to be cruel. The incident was nothing to him. When anyone was
in his way, he always got the obstacle out of it. He addressed the silent
Lucia, who was horrified at the treatment accorded the innocent Angela.
"Now that we have all finished eating," he said, delighting in the sarcasm,
since no one else had had a bite, "we will get down to business." He
shoved the tray aside, and the cook began instantly to clean things up.
"Pedro!" Lopez called, taking out a huge ivory toothpick which he
shamelessly used.
Instantly Pedro was at the door. "_Si!_" he said.
Lopez still spoke to Lucia: "We shall have big time togezzer--at least for
a leetle while." Then he motioned to Pedro; and his men brought in the male
prisoners. "You will not worry 'bout being married, once you come wiz me."
Morgan Pell heard this last remark.
"Look here," he said, "that's my wife you're talking to!" Rage was in his
face. He didn't care whether he was this man's prisoner or not. There
should be no insults hurled at Lucia--that old, primitive feeling for his
woman was roused.
"So!" was all Lopez said, turning on Pell, and nodding his head. "Ees nice
wife--I like her. You do not mind, do you?" His hand touched Lucia's arm.
"Ees all right. I shall ask no question. You shall answer what I ask. And
as is my custom, anybody what does not tell ze truth shall be quite
suddenly--" he paused just the portion of a second--"shot."
Uncle Henry had rolled in with the rest. At this last word his chair
reared up like a frightened steed. "Shot!" he cried.
"_Si_," answered Lopez, calmly.
"You mean it?" Uncle Henry asked, unbelief in his tone.
The bandit glared at him.
"Should I waste my time listening to sings which are not true?"
"Thank Gawd, I ain't got nothin' to lie about!" was Uncle Henry's relieved
thought, expressed aloud.
"H'm!" Lopez murmured. "You have given me a idea." He rubbed his hands
together, and then pushed his big sombrero a little back on his forehead.
"Better as my own. I shall use it."
Uncle Henry wondered what he had suggested. "What's that?" he asked.
Lopez took on the voice of an orator, or a man in court making an important
announcement. "If anyone 'ere shall tell me a lie, zen you shall all be--"
he paused dramatically once more--"shot." The final word rang out like a
shot itself.
A movement of despair ran through the group.
"Geemoneddy!" Uncle Henry broke the tension.
Lopez turned to Lucia. "All bot you," he graciously informed her. "I 'ave
ozzer plans for you!" Her hair enraptured him--her youth and loveliness.
The relief she felt at the first part of the sentence was quickly killed as
the sinister meaning of the latter part rushed into her brain.
"Other plans!" she cried.
"_Si._" He was unmoved by her apprehension. He walked to the very center of
the room, and looked about him, studying all their faces.
It was as if he were a central pivot and their destinies revolved around
him. They had no idea what he would say next, and they hung on his words.