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THE MYSTERY OF
THE BARRANCA
BY
HERMAN WHITAKER
AUTHOR OF
"THE PLANTER" AND
"THE SETTLER"
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
MCMXIII
COPYRIGHT 1913 BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED FEBRUARY 1913
[Illustration: [See page 248
SEYD LIFTED FRANCESCA AND LEAPED]
"_To Vera, my daughter and gentle collaborator, whose nimble fingers
lightened the load of many labors, this book is lovingly dedicated._"
THE MYSTERY OF THE BARRANCA
CHAPTER I
"Oh Bob, just look at them!"
Leaning down from his perch on the sacked mining tools which formed the
apex of their baggage, Billy Thornton punched his companion in the back
to call his attention to a scene which had spread a blaze of humor over
his own rich crop of freckles.
As a matter of fact, the spectacle of two men fondly embracing can
always be depended on to stir the crude Anglo-Saxon sense of humor. In
this case it was rendered still more ridiculous by age and portliness,
but two years' wandering through interior Mexico had accustomed
Thornton's comrade, Robert Seyd, to the sight. After a careless glance
he resumed his contemplation of the crowd that thronged the little
station. Exhibiting every variety of Mexican costume, from the plain
white blanket of the peons to the leather suits of the rancheros and
the hacendados, or owners of estates, it was as picturesque and
brilliant in color and movement as anything in a musical extravaganza.
The European clothing of a young girl who presently stepped out of the
ticket office emphasized the theatrical flavor by its vivid contrast.
She might easily have been the captive heroine among bandits, and the
thought actually occurred to Billy. While she paused to call her dog, a
huge Siberian wolf hound, she was hidden from Seyd's view by the stout
embracers. Therefore it was to the dog that he applied Billy's remark at
first.
"Isn't she a peach?"
She seemed the finest of her race that he had ever seen, and Seyd was
just about to say that she carried herself like a "perfect lady" when
the dissolution of the aforesaid embrace brought the girl into view. He
stopped--with a small gasp that testified to his astonishment at her
unusual type.
Although slender for her years--about two and twenty--her throat and
bust were rounded in perfect development. The clear olive complexion
was undoubtedly Spanish, yet her face lacked the firm line that hardens
with the years. Perhaps some strain of Aztec blood--from which the
Spanish-Mexican is never free--had helped to soften her features,
but this would not account for their pleasing irregularity. A bit
_retrousee_, the small nose with its well-defined nostrils patterned
after the Celtic. Had Seyd known it, the face in its entirety--colors
and soft contours--is to be found to this day among the descendants of
the sailors who escaped from the wreck of the Spanish Armada on the west
coast of Ireland. Pretty and unusual as she was, her greatest charm
centered in the large black eyes that shone amid her clear pallor,
conveying in broad day the tantalizing mystery of a face seen for an
instant through a warm gloaming. In the moment that he caught their
velvet glance Seyd received an impression of vivacious intelligence
altogether foreign in his experience of Mexican women.
As she was standing only a few feet away, he knew that she must have
heard Billy's remark; but, counting on her probable ignorance of
English, he did not hesitate to answer. "Pretty? Well, I should
say--pretty enough to marry. The trouble is that in this country the
ugliness of the grown woman seems to be in inverse ratio to her girlish
beauty. Bet you the fattest hacendado is her father. And she'll give him
pounds at half his age."
"Maybe," Billy answered. "Yet I'd be almost willing to take the chance."
As the girl had turned just then to look at the approaching train
neither of them caught the sudden dark flash, supreme disdain, that drew
an otherwise quite tender red mouth into a scarlet line. But for the dog
they would never have been a whit the wiser. For as the engine came
hissing along the platform the brute sprang and crouched on the tracks,
furiously snarling, ready for a spring at the headlight, which it
evidently took for the Adam's apple of the strange monster. The train
still being under way, the poor beast's faith would have cost it its
life but for Seyd's quickness. In the moment that the girl's cry rang
out, and in less time than it took Billy to slide from his perch, Seyd
leaped down, threw the dog aside, and saved himself by a spring to the
cow-catcher.
"Oh, you fool! You crazy idiot!" While thumping him soundly, Billy ran
on, "To risk your life for a dog--a Mexican's, at that!"
But he stopped dead, blushed till his freckles were extinguished, as the
girl's voice broke in from behind.
"And the Mexican thanks you, sir. It was foolhardy, yes, and dearly as I
love the dog I would not have had you take such a risk. But now that it
is done--accept my thanks." As the stouter of the embracers now came
bustling up, she added in Spanish, "My uncle, senor."
At close range she was even prettier; but, though gratitude had wiped
out the flash of disdain, a vivid memory of his late remarks caused Seyd
to turn with relief to the hacendado. During the delivery of effusive
thanks he had time to cancel a first impression--gained from a rear view
of a gaudy jacket--of a fat tenor in a Spanish opera, for the man's
head and features were cast in a massive mold. His big fleshy nose
jutted out from under heavy brows that overshadowed wide, sagacious
eyes, Indian-brown in color. If the wind and weather of sixty years had
tanned him dark as a peon, it went excellently with his grizzled
mustache. Despite his stoutness and the costume, every fat inch of him
expressed the soldier.
"My cousin, senor."
Having been placed, metaphorically, in possession of all the hacendado's
earthly possessions, Seyd turned to exchange bows with a young man who
had just emerged from the baggage-room--at least he seemed young at the
first glance. A second look showed that the impression was largely due
to a certain trimness of figure which was accentuated by the perfect fit
of a suit of soft-dressed leather. When he raised his felt sombrero the
hair showed thin on his temples. Neither were his poise and
imperturbable manner attributes of youth.
"It was very clever of you, senor."
A slight peculiarity of intonation made Seyd look up. "Jealous," he
thought, yet he was conscious of something else--some feeling too
elusively subtle to be analyzed on the spur of the moment. Suggesting,
as it did, that he had made a "gallery play," the remark roused in him
quick irritation. But had it been possible to frame an answer there was
no time, for just then the familiar cry, "_Vaminos!_" rang out, and the
American conductor hustled uncle, niece, and her dog into the nearest
car.
The entire incident had occupied little more than a moment, and as, a
little bewildered by its rush, Seyd stood looking after the train he
found himself automatically raising his cap in reply to a fluttering
handkerchief.
"You Yankees are certainly very enterprising."
Turning quickly, Seyd met again the glance of subtle hostility. But,
though he felt certain that the remark had been called forth by his
salute, he had no option but to apply it to the mining kit toward which
the other was pointing.
"You are for the mines, senor? In return for your service to my cousin
it is, perhaps, that I can be of assistance--in the hiring of men and
mules?"
While equally quiet and subtle, the patronage in his manner was easier
to meet. Undisturbed, however, when Seyd declined his offer, he
sauntered quietly away.
"_Bueno!_ As you wish."