MANUEL INTERFERES
Valencia had scarcely left the parlor to telephone for the sheriff
before Manuel flashed a knife and cut the rope that tied his prisoner's
hands.
Sebastian had shrunk back at sight of the knife, but when he found that
he was free he stared at Pesquiera in startled amazement.
"Come! Let's get out of here. We can talk when you are free of danger,"
said Manuel with sharp authority in his voice.
He led the way into the corridor, walked quickly down one passage and
along another, and so by a back stairway into the alley in the rear.
Within a few minutes they were a quarter of a mile from the El Tovar.
Sebastian, still suspicious, yet aware that for some reason Don Manuel
was unexpectedly on his side, awaited explanations.
"_Doña_ Valdés is quite right, Sebastian. She means well, but she is,
after all, a woman. This is a man's business, and you and I can settle
it better alone." Manuel smiled with an air of frank confidence at his
former prisoner. "You are in a serious fix--no doubt at all about that.
The question is to find the best way out."
_"Si, Señor"_.
Pesquiera's bright black eyes fastened on him as he flung a question at
the man. "I suppose this Gordon is still alive."
Sebastian nodded gloomily. "He is like a cat with its nine lives. We
have beaten and starved him, but he laughs--this Gringo devil--and tells
us he will live to see us wearing stripes in prison."
_"Muy bien."_ Manuel talked on briskly, so as to give the slower-witted
Mexican no time to get set in obstinacy. "I should be able to arrange
matters then. We must free the man after I have his word to tell
nothing."
"But he will run straight to the sheriff," protested Sebastian.
"Not if he gives his word. I'll see to that. Where have you him hidden?"
The young Spaniard asked the question carelessly, almost indifferently,
as if it were merely a matter of course.
Sebastian opened his mouth to tell--and then closed it. He had had no
intention of telling anything. Now he found he had told everything
except their hiding-place. The suspicion which lay coiled in his heart
lifted its head like a snake. Was he being led into a trap? Would Don
Manuel betray him to the law? The gleaming eyes of the man narrowed and
grew hard.
Manuel, intuitively sensing this, hurried on. "It can be a matter of
only hours now until they stumble upon your hiding-place. If this
happens before we have come to terms with Gordon you are lost. I have
come to town to save you and Pablo. But I can't do this unless you trust
me. Take me to Gordon and let me talk with him. Blindfold me if you
like. But lose no time."
As Sebastian saw it, this was a chance. He knew Manuel was an honest
man. His reputation was of the best. Reluctantly he gave way.
"The _Americano_ is at the Valdés house," he admitted sulkily.
"At the Valdés house? Why, in Heaven's name, did you take him there?"
"How could we tell that the _Señorita_ would come to town? The house was
empty. Pablo worked there in the stables as a boy. So we moved in."
A quarter of an hour later Pablo opened the outer basement door in
answer to the signal agreed upon by them. He had left the prisoner upon
the bed with his hands tied. Sebastian entered. Pablo noticed that
another man was standing outside. Instantly his rifle covered him. For,
though others of their countrymen had been employed to help capture
Gordon, none of these knew where he was hidden.
"It is Don Manuel Pesquiera," explained Sebastian. "I brought him here
to help us out of this trouble we are in. Let him in and I will tell you
all."
For an instant Pablo suspected that his accomplice had sold him, but he
dismissed the thought almost at once. He had known Sebastian all his
life. He stepped aside and let Pesquiera come into the hall.
The three men talked for a few minutes and then passed into the bedroom
where the prisoner was confined. Evidently this had formerly been the
apartment of the cook, who had slept in the basement in order no doubt
to be nearer her work. Pesquiera looked around and at last made out a
figure in the darkness lying upon the bed.
He stepped forward, observing that the man on the bed had his hands
bound. Bending down, he recognized the face of Gordon. Beaten and
bruised and gaunt from hunger it was, but the eyes still gleamed with
the same devil-may-care smile.
"Happy to meet you, Don Manuel."
The Spaniard's heart glowed with admiration. He did not like the man. It
was his intention to fight him as soon as possible for the insult that
had been put upon him some weeks earlier. But his spirit always answered
to the call of courage, and Gordon's pluck was so debonair he could not
refuse a reluctant appreciation.
"I regret to see you thus, Mr. Gordon," he said.
"Might have been worse. Sebastian has had se-vere-al notions about
putting me out of business. I'm lucky to be still kicking."
"I have come from Miss Valdés. She came to Santa Fé when she heard from
your friend Mr. Davis that you had disappeared. To-night we saw
Sebastian for the first time. He brought me here."
"Good of him," commented Dick ironically.
"You will be freed of course--at once." Manuel drew out his knife and
cut the cords that bound the prisoner. "But I must ask your forbearance
in behalf of Sebastian and Pablo and the others that have injured you.
May I give them your pledge not to appear as a witness against them for
what they have done?"
"Fine! I'm to be mauled and starved and kidnaped, but I'm to say 'Thank
you kindly' for these small favors, hoping for a continuance of the
same. You have another guess coming, Mr. Pesquiera. I offered those
terms two days ago. They weren't accepted. My ideas have changed. I'm
going to put your friends behind the bars--unless you decide to let them
murder me instead. I've been the goat long enough."
"Your complaint is just, Mr. Gordon. It iss your right to enforce the
law. Most certainly it iss your right. But consider my position.
Sebastian brought me here only upon my pledge to secure from you a
promise not to press your rights. What shall I do? I must see that you
are released. That goes without saying. But shall I break faith with him
and let him be delivered to justice? I have given my word, remember."
Gordon looked up at him with his lean jaw set. "You couldn't give _my_
word, could you? Very well. Go away. Forget that you've seen me. I'll be
a clam so far as you are concerned. But if I get free I'm going to make
things hot for these lads that think they can play Ned with me. They're
going to the pen, every last one of them. I'm going to see this thing
out to a finish and find out if there's any law in New Mexico."
Manuel stiffened. "You put me in an awkward position, Mr. Gordon. I have
no choice but to see you are set at liberty. But my honor is involved.
These men shall not go to prison. They have made a serious mistake, but
they are not what you call criminals. You know well----"
"I know that they and their friends have shot at me, ambushed me, beaten
me, and starved me. They've been wanting to kill me ever since they got
me here--at least one of them has--but they just didn't have the guts to
do it. What is your definition of a criminal anyhow? Your friends here
fill the specifications close enough to suit me. I ain't worried about
their being too good for the company they'll join at the pen."
"You are then resolve', _Señor_?"
"That's what I am. I'm going to see they get the limit. I've not got a
thing against you, Mr. Pesquiera, and I'd like to oblige you if I could.
But I'm playing this hand myself."
The Spaniard spoke to him in a low voice. "These men are the people of
Miss Valdés. She drove all night across the mountains to get here sooner
when she found you were gone. She offered and paid a reward of one
hundred dollars to help find you. Do you not owe something to her?"
"I owe one hundred dollars and my thanks, sir. I'll pay them both. But
Miss Valdés cannot ask me to give up prosecuting these men because she
would not stand back and see murder done."
"Will you then leave it to her to punish these men?"
"No. I pay my own debts."
Manuel was troubled. He had expected to find the prisoner so eager for
release that he would consent at once to his proposal. Instead, he found
a man hard and cold as steel. Yet he had to admit that Gordon claimed
only his rights. No man could be expected to stand without an appeal to
the law such outrageous treatment as he had been given.
"Will you consent then to settle the matter with me, man to man? These
men are but peons. They are like cattle and do not think. But I--I am a
more worthy foeman. Let me take the burden of their misdeeds on my
shoulders."
Dick wagged a forefinger at him warningly. "Now you've got that
swashbuckler notion of a duel again. I'm no cavalier of Spain, but a
plain American business man, Don Quixote. As for these jail-birds"--his
hand swept the room to include the Mexicans--"since I'm an unregenerate
human I mean to make 'em pay for what they've done. That's all there is
to it."
Don Manuel bowed. "Very good, Mr. Gordon. We shall see. I promise you
that I shall stand between them and prison. I offer you a chance to win
the friendship of the Mexicans in the valley. You decline. So be it. I
wash my hands, sir."
He turned away and gave directions to Pablo, who left the room at once.
The Spaniard called for candles and lit two. He pointedly ignored
Gordon, but sat with his hands in his pockets whistling softly a popular
air.
About a quarter of an hour later Pablo returned with a hot meal on a
tray. Gordon, having done without food for two days, ate his ham and
eggs and drank his coffee with an appetite given to few men. Meanwhile
Pesquiera withdrew to the passage and laid down an ultimatum to the
Mexicans. They must take horse at once and get back to the hills above
the Rio Chama Valley. He would bring saddle horses from a stable so that
they could start within the hour and travel all night.
The Mexicans listened sullenly. But they knew that the matter was now
out of their hands. Since the arrival of Pesquiera it had become
manifestly impossible to hold their prisoner longer. They agreed to the
plan of the Spaniard reluctantly.
After Pablo and Sebastian had taken horse Pesquiera returned to the
prisoner.
"We will, if it pleases you, move upstairs, Mr. Gordon," he announced.
"To-night I must ask you to remain in the house with me to give those
poor fools a little start on their ride for freedom. We shall find
better beds upstairs no doubt."
"They're hitting the trail, are they?" Dick asked negligently as he
followed his guide.
"Yes. If you'll give me your parole till morning, Mr. Gordon, I shall be
able to return to Miss Valdés and let her know that all is well.
Otherwise I shall be obliged to sit up and see that you do not get
active in interfering with the ride of Pablo and his friend."
"I'll stay here till seven o'clock to-morrow morning. Is that late
enough? Then I'll see the sheriff and start things moving."
Pesquiera bowed in his grand, formal manner. "The terms satisfy. I wish
Mr. Gordon a very good night's sleep. This room formerly belonged to the
brother of Miss Valdés. It is curious, but she was here airing this room
only to-day. She did not know you were in the house at the time. _Adios,
Señor._"
"Good night, Mr. Pesquiera. I reckon I'm in your debt quite a bit. Sorry
we couldn't agree about this little matter of what to do with the boys."
Manuel bowed again and withdrew from the room.
Inside of ten minutes Gordon was fast asleep.