THE CROSSING
It is not the magnitude of an incident that most shocks the human mind.
A happening stuns us in ratio to its unexpectedness.
Now, if there was anything in the whole range of possibilities more
unexpected than the appearance of Tom Hotchkiss, the absconding Polktown
storekeeper, down in this unlovely Border town, Janice Day could not
imagine what that more unexpected occurrence could be.
It took fully a minute for Marty's announcement to really percolate to
his cousin's understanding. She stared dumbly at the red vest, which was
about all she could see of the man in Don Jos['e] Almoreda Tomas Sauceda
Pez's store, and then turned to Marty, saying:
"Yes?"
"Cricky!" sputtered the boy. "You gone dumb, Janice? Don't you
understand?"
"I--I--no, Marty. I do not believe I _do_ understand. Is--is it surely
that Hotchkiss man?"
"Surest thing you know!" declared the boy.
"What _shall_ we do?" and for once Janice felt herself to be quite
helpless.
That Marty's wits were bright and shining was proved by his immediate
reply:
"You leave it to me. I got a scheme. I'm going to skip over to the
telegraph office. We want to find that Lieutenant Cowan if we can,
anyway. And I'm going to send what they call a night letter to dad. A
_night_ letter to a _Day_, see?" and he giggled.
"You get back upstairs into your room and don't let Hotchkiss see you.
Get 'em to give you your dinner up there. 'Twon't be nothin' but beans,
anyway, I have an idea. That's what they live on down here, they tell
me, and comin' from Vermont as I do, beans ain't a luxury to me. I won't
mind missing a mess of 'em for once."
"But, Marty----"
"I got a scheme, I tell you," the boy whispered. "Can't stop to tell you
what it is. I got to hike."
He dashed out of the door, the only rapidly moving figure in all that
town, for even the dogs in the street seemed too lazy to move.
Janice, feeling that she was allowing her cousin to take the lead in a
most disgraceful way, yet really not knowing what better to do, mounted
the stairs again and went into the room where the sand fleas were
"fox-trotting," as she afterwards told Marty, over the straw matting.
The appearance of Tom Hotchkiss in this place was such a shock to the
girl that it was some time before she could think connectedly about it.
Her cousin had made the discovery and had had time to collect his wits
before Janice had descended the stairs. After a time the girl realized
what should be done, and she wondered if Marty would really be wise
enough to do it.
Her uncle should be informed at once of the presence of Tom Hotchkiss
here on the Border. In addition the local authorities should be
communicated with and a complaint lodged against the runaway storekeeper
and his arrest demanded.
She was not quite sure what would be the correct course to pursue; but
when the smiling and ponderous Rosita with the _ni[~n]ito_ still tagging at
her skirt brought up her dinner, she asked the woman how one went about
having a criminal arrested in that town.
"You want the sheriff--yes, huh?" said Rosita.
"I suppose so."
"The sheriff, heem my hoosban'," said Rosita proudly. "Se[~n]or Tomas
Morales. But he off now to ar-r-est one weeked man--very weeked. He
stole Uncle Tio's pants. Poor Uncle Tio! My hoosban' go far after this
weeked man--two days' horse journey."
"And just because the man stole a pair of pants?"
"Yes, huh! You see," explained Rosita, "they were all the pants poor
Uncle Tio own, and he now have to wear _serape_ only. Only poor Indians
appear without pants--yes, huh!"
Janice gazed at the _ni[~n]ito_ and tried to imagine the dignity attached
in the peon's mind to a pair of trousers. However, the meal was before
her and although the main dish was beans, as Marty had foretold, they
were savory and the girl found them good.
These _frijoles_ were soft and well seasoned and the cakes, _tortillas_,
were tender, too. The coffee was delicious and there was a sweet cake
which Janice thought was made of ground bean-flour, but was not sure.
She began to worry about Marty's absence. After Rosita had descended the
stairs everything was silent about the store and hotel. It was the hour
of _siesta_--though why one hour should be considered more somnolent
than another in this place the girl from Vermont could not imagine.
Through the open, unscreened window she could see down the street. At
its far end, across the railroad, was a pole from which a faded American
flag drooped. This she knew indicated the post telegraph office. The
army post was a little more than a mile away.
Where could Marty be all this time? It was two hours since he had darted
out of the hotel to send the night letter to Uncle Jason. Surely he was
not still at that telegraph office?
Here and there along the dusty, sunny street figures in broad hats,
striped cotton, suits, with colored sashes, many of them barefoot or
shod only in home-made sandals, leaned against the adobe walls, or lay
on their backs in the shade. Groups of shawl-headed, gossipy women with
innumerable babies playing about them likewise spotted the gray street
with color.
Those males who were awake were smoking the everlasting cigarette or
rolling a fresh one. Not a few of the women were smoking, too. Just one
of these male figures, lolling against the wall directly opposite her
window, did not expel the incense of nicotine through his nostrils. This
lad did not smoke.
Janice, for some reason, looked at him more attentively. His
high-crowned, gayly banded hat was quite like the headgear of the
others; so, too, was the glaringly striped suit he wore of "awning
cloth" such as the girls were having sport skirts made of in the
North--"too loud for an awning, but just right for a skirt!"
He wore a flowing necktie and shoes and socks--an extravagance that few
of the Mexicans in sight displayed. Or was he a Mexican? He was tanned,
but not to the saddle color of the native.
Yes! he waved his hand to her. Now that he knew he had caught her eye
he raised his hatbrim and revealed--Marty's face, all a-grin, beneath
it!
"Goodness! what _is_ that boy doing? He has attempted to disguise
himself again," murmured Janice Day.
Then she suddenly apprehended her cousin's reason for thus assuming the
dress and air of the town. At least she thought she did. He was watching
the store to see that Tom Hotchkiss did not get away. He did not wish to
be recognized by the dishonest Polktown storekeeper. And knowing, as she
did, that the only local officer of the law, Se[~n]or Tomas Morales, was
absent she realized that she and Marty must be careful if they wished to
have Hotchkiss finally seized.
Here the absconder was, right near the Mexican Border. Once over the Rio
Grande, in the present unsettled state of Mexican affairs Hotchkiss
could not be arrested and turned over to the American authorities.
Instead of entering Canada as Polktown people thought probable, and from
which he could be more or less easily extradited if found, Tom Hotchkiss
had traveled across the continent to be near battle-troubled Mexico
where many transgressors against laws of the United States have taken
refuge.
Janice Day's heart throbbed with eager thoughts. What a really great
thing it would be if she and Marty could succeed in having this man,
whose dishonest acts threatened Uncle Jason's ruin, apprehended by the
law before he could get across the Border!
"Oh! if daddy's friend, Lieutenant Cowan, were only here," thought the
girl, "we might accomplish it without awaiting the return of Rosita's
trousers-chasing 'hoosban'.' I wonder who is in command of the soldiers
out there at the post? Would I dare go to see?"
This plan savored of delaying her determination to get into Mexico and
find her wounded father. But to cause the arrest of Tom Hotchkiss might
mean Uncle Jason's financial salvation. Of course, if the runaway
storekeeper had not lost the money he had stolen, his apprehension would
insure the recovery of the large sum for which Mr. Jason Day had made
himself liable.
Janice waved her hand in return to Marty and nodded understandingly; but
she wished to communicate with him at close quarters. She desired to
know how much he had learned--if he, too, knew that the local sheriff
was out of town. She however saw the danger of going down boldly to hold
converse with her cousin. Tom Hotchkiss knew her, of course, as he did
Marty, though not very well. Just then Janice hoped the man had
forgotten them both.
When Rosita, smiling but puffing after the stair-climb like the exhaust
of a "mountain climber" locomotive, appeared for her tray Janice took
the willing and kindly Mexican woman into her confidence, to an end she
had in view.
It was true that Janice's traveling bag held a very small wardrobe for
such a long journey as she had made. She had nothing fit to wear now
that she had reached the Border. Could ready-made garments that would
fit her be bought in Don Jos['e]'s store?
But, by goodness!--yes, huh? There were garments for the young
se[~n]orita--yes, of a delectable assortment. Ah! if Rosita herself could
but wear them. But, she was past all that--yes, huh? Would the se[~n]orita
believe it? She had lost her figure!
Janice turned quickly to point from the window so that the unfortunate
Rosita should not see her expression. It was a task to keep from
bursting into laughter in the simple woman's face.
"Clothes like that girl over there is wearing?" Janice asked.
"Ah, se[~n]orita! not like those old clothes of Manuel Dario's daughter.
But real _tailaire-made_ gowns from the East."
"But I wish to dress like one of you Mexican girls," Janice said with
subtile flattery. "My cousin and I have to go over into your country and
I shall be less conspicuous if I dress like--like other girls there,
shall I not?"
"Oh! but not like the common girl!" begged Rosita. "One must dress
richly, se[~n]orita."
"No," Janice said. "I am on a serious mission, Rosita; perhaps a
dangerous mission. My father has been wounded in a fight up beyond San
Cristoval, and I must go after him and bring him over here."
Rosita made a clucking noise in her throat significant of her sympathy,
making likewise the sign of the cross. "May his recovery be sure and
speedy, se[~n]orita," she said. "Yes, huh?"
But now for the new clothes. Once having got it fixed in her slow brain
that Janice was not in the market for the shop-made garments copied
after the latest fashions, Rosita was very helpful. She made no
objection to waddling downstairs and panting up again with her arms full
of the ordinary cheap finery of the Mexican women. The colors were gay
and the goods coarse; but Janice was not critical. She merely hoped to
escape any special attention while passing through these Border towns.
Likewise she hoped to disguise herself from the eyes of Mr. Tom
Hotchkiss.
"If the se[~n]orita desires to travel far within Chihuahua, it would be
better to advise with my father, Don Jos['e]," Rosita said, revealing a
relationship Janice had not before suspected. "Although he has been
exiled now for many years, and is--what you say?--naturalized--yes, huh.
Yet, se[~n]orita, he has many friends among all factions. Some of the
lesser chiefs are personally known to him, those both of the bandits
and the army of deliverance. Speak to him, se[~n]orita."
"I shall, Rosita," said Janice. "And as soon as your husband, the Se[~n]or
Sheriff Morales, comes I wish to speak with him too."
"_S['i], s['i], se[~n]orita._ I hope that will be soon," Rosita said, blowing a
sigh. "And I hope he brings back Uncle Tio's pants."
Janice ventured downstairs dressed in her fresh garments. They were not
unbecoming, and she tossed her head and walked with her hand on her hip
as she had seen several of the Mexican girls do who had passed Marty
leaning against the wall. Marty was not thinking much of girls, however,
and he had given the se[~n]oritas very little notice for their trouble.
But he saw Janice when she came down the veranda steps and recognized
her, grinning broadly at her.
"Hi tunket! you got a head on you, Janice, you have!" he said
admiringly. "I wasn't sure you'd see what I was up to."
"I return the compliment," said his cousin, smiling on him. "_You_
thought of it first."
"Well, I was afraid Tom Hotchkiss might see and spot me."
"He is still in the store. I heard and recognized his voice as I came
down. I think he is bargaining for something with Se[~n]or Jos['e] Almoreda
Tomas Sauceda Pez. Perhaps Hotchkiss is going to adopt Mexican
garments," she went on after she and Marty had giggled over their host's
name.
"Good-bye to that red vest, then," grunted Marty. "Now, we've just got
to catch that feller and shut him up somewhere till dad can send for
him. There ain't any police here. I asked the feller I swapped my
clothes with."
"Oh, Marty! did you get rid of all your good clothes--your Sunday suit?"
"Why," said Marty slowly, "I got something to boot. I didn't make such a
bad bargain. Anyway, the feller I swapped with said he needed the pants
awful bad."
"What for?" gasped Janice.
"Why, for somebody he called Uncle Tio. Uncle Tio's lost his--had 'em
stole. I judge nobody down here ever owns more than one pair of pants at
a time, and they would have hung this feller that stole Uncle Tio's if
they'd caught him. 'Tisn't horse thieves they lynch down here in the
Southwest; it's pants thieves!" and Marty chuckled.
"Oh, Marty!" giggled Janice. "The whole police force has gone chasing
the robber who got Uncle Tio's trousers."
"Thought there weren't any police?" gasped Marty.
Janice told him about Rosita's husband.
"A sheriff, eh?" said Marty. "We'll get him to grab and hold on to Tom
Hotchkiss--sure. Wonder if there's a calaboose here?"
"There must be some way of holding the man. Did you communicate with
Lieutenant Cowan, Marty?"
The boy wagged his head regretfully. "Nobody knows where he is. They
tell me at the telegraph office that the army is on a war basis and
information about the movements of troops is not locally given out. We
got to go on our own taps, I guess, Janice."
"But, Marty, I don't know what to do. About this Tom Hotchkiss, I mean."
"I know. You're mighty anxious to make the crossing and go up to Uncle
Brocky's mine. So am I. But we got to grab Tom Hotchkiss first."
"If we can."
"I told dad we would," Marty said confidently. "Oh! we'll fix it. But I
wish there was a constable here right now. I don't know about these
sheriffs. Still, it's against the law down here to carry a gun, I
s'pose, same as it is up North, unless you're a soldier or a law
officer. That's why that feller that swapped clothes with me said there
were no cops to bother about it."
"Why! what do you mean, Marty?" his cousin cried.
The boy drew from its hiding place in his sash a shiny "snub-nose"
service revolver--a much more deadly weapon than the army automatic,
for it will shoot farther and straighter.
"This is what I got to boot in the trade," said the boy with immense
pride.
"Marty!" almost shrieked Janice. "You'll shoot yourself!"
"I won't till it's loaded," returned her cousin coolly. "I got the
cartridges, all right all right; but I haven't put any of 'em into the
cylinder. Oh, I know about guns, Janice."
"Goodness me!" groaned the girl. "What are we coming to?"
"We've _come_," announced Marty grimly. "And it ain't any Sunday-school
picnic at that. This isn't Polktown, Janice. We're at the Border.
'Tisn't no place for scare-cats, either."
"I'm no 'scare-cat,' as you call them, I should hope," said the girl
indignantly.
Nevertheless she was very much disturbed by this incident. It seemed so
peaceful here; they had seen scarcely a soldier in crossing Texas--none
at all since leaving the train. The fact that they were so near the
border-line of war-ridden Mexico was now suddenly impressed upon her
mind.
"Suppose Marty should be shot?" she thought. "Oh! what would Uncle Jason
and Aunt 'Mira do to me?"
"Say!" the boy suddenly interrupted the train of these thoughts and with
cheerfulness. "Say! it's up to us to do something. Let's get that old
don out of the store and put it to him--straight. They tell me he's the
whole cheese here."
"He seems kindly disposed," Janice agreed.
"He was a high muck-a-muck in Chihuahua once upon a time. But he favored
the poor people--peons, they call 'em--and old Diaz who used to boss the
whole o' Mexico run him out. I guess he's one good greaser that ain't
dead," and the boy grinned.
"Oh, Marty!"
"Well, maybe he can help. And if his son-in-law is sheriff----"
At that moment Don Jos['e] walked out upon the porch and seated himself in
his broad armchair.
"Come on," said Marty, seizing his cousin's hand.
They approached the hotel veranda. This time the proprietor did not rise
to greet them. He scarcely looked at them, in truth.
But when Marty spoke Don Jos['e] started upright in his chair and
stared--then arose.
"By goodness! it is so!" he exclaimed. "Pardon! I did not recognize. It
is, then, that you have assumed the dress of my countrymen?"
"We have to go over into Mexico and we thought it would be better if we
dressed in this way," Janice explained.
"It is so," agreed the old gentleman, nodding vigorously. "And when
would you go?"
"As soon as possible. But there is something----"
"Manuel is going this evening with an empty wagon," the don said. "He
will take you to La Guarda for five dollars each."
"Five dollars Mex?" put in Marty shrewdly.
"But, yes."
"Oh! but how about Tom Hotchkiss----" broke in Janice.
"That feller in the red vest--the American talking with you in the
store, Don Jos['e]?" questioned Marty. "We want to talk to you about him."
"You know heem?" cried the old man amazedly. "Why did you not speak to
heem, then? He is gone."
"Gone!" chorused the cousins.
"I sorrow to tell you--yes. He is gone this half hour. He was bargaining
for my best horse, and he went out through my stables in the rear. He is
already at the crossing by now. _S['i], se[~n]orita._ I am sure your
friend--Se[~n]or Hoo-kiss, is he called?--did not see you."
Janice and Marty glanced at each other. The boy, first to find his
voice, muttered:
"Of all the gooneys that ever got away from the backwoods, _we_ take the
bun!"
"The se[~n]orita is greatly disappoint?" queried the kind old man. "Se[~n]or
Hoo-kiss has gone to La Guarda. If the se[~n]orita and her _compadre_," and
he smiled at Marty, "go there she may overtake _los Americanos_, eh?
The boy, Manuel, is to be trusted."
"We might's well go, Janice," groaned Marty. "No use even waitin' for
dad to answer my telegram. It's all off about Tom Hotchkiss."
"Oh! poor Uncle Jason!" murmured Janice.
"We'll take a ride with Manuel, Don Jos['e]," said Marty briskly. "And can
you get us a good supper before we start?"
"I will have a chicken killed, se[~n]or," said the old man, going indoors
to give the order.
"Cricky! Chicken right off the hoof," groaned Marty. "Unless they pound
it like they say they do the boarding-house beefsteak, that pullet will
sure be tough."
"Rosita is a good cook," Janice assured him wearily.
"She's bound to be," grinned Marty. "'Twasn't wind-pudding that made her
as fat as she is, I bet."
They tried not to show each other how disappointed they were over the
escape of Tom Hotchkiss. They had found him and lost him so easily! It
was positive that the absconding storekeeper did not know of the
presence of the cousins here; yet chance had sent him on his way before
they could have the man apprehended for the swindle he had worked in
Polktown. However, this misadventure made Janice's principal object in
coming to the Border loom more significantly in her thoughts. She must
reach San Cristoval and the Alderdice Mine as quickly as possible.
While supper was being prepared and the two cousins waited for the
teamster, Manuel, Janice talked with Don Jos['e], who was a very
intelligent person indeed. He assured her that, if the journey to San
Cristoval was possible at all, it could be made from La Guarda on the
other side of the river as directly as from any place.
He went so far as to write a letter in Spanish, which he carefully
translated for Janice's benefit, to the _cacique_, or mayor, really the
"feudal lord" of La Guarda, asking his good offices for "my very good
friends," as he politely called Janice and Marty.
"He will advise you regarding route, conveyance, and payment for
services," Don Jos['e] said. "_S['i], s['i]!_ you have the money to pay?
_Poderoso Caballero es Don Dinero_--a powerful gentleman is Mr. Money,
se[~n]orita."
The two hurried their departure. At least, Janice and Marty hurried
their preparations for leaving Don Jos['e]'s establishment; but nobody else
hurried.
Manuel hitched in his four mules after a while. Then he ate his supper.
Half an hour was consumed in picking his teeth and gossiping with
Rosita.
"Hi! se[~n]or and se[~n]orita!" he finally shouted. "_Los Americanos!_ We
go--alla right?"
The wagon was merely a platform of split poles laid over the axletrees
of the two pair of wheels, connected by a reach. But Marty, mindful of
his cousin's comfort, had bought a bundle of thatch for a seat.
She climbed on and Marty followed. Manuel sat sidewise on the tongue
just behind the mules' heels. He shouted to the animals in Spanish, and
the mules were off.
It was a dusty drive to the river, but comparatively cool at this time
of day. The cousins did not see the red vest of Tom Hotchkiss on the
way. He had doubtless got over the river before them.
It was nine o'clock when the mules splashed down into the ford. Manuel
drew up his feet carefully, so as not to get them wet, although he was
barefooted.
"If they got washed he'd die of the shock," whispered Marty to Janice.
In one place the mules were body deep in the yellow, sluggish flood.
Janice and Marty stood up; but the water did not rise over the platform
of the wagon. In a few minutes Manuel shouted again to the mules and
they fought their way up the Mexican bank.
"_Viva M['e]jico!_" ejaculated Manuel.
"What's that for?" asked Marty suspiciously.
"We haf arrived," said the teamster. "And whoever hears us," he added,
squinting about in the dusk, "will know we love _la patria_."