A DARING RAID.
A week had passed since Jim Morrison rode down from the hills to take
the steamer from New York. Now he sat in his room in his B. V. D.'s and
wondered how you married a girl who hated you.
His temperament was mercurial; he was either in the clouds or at the
bottom of an abyss. That he had made an impression on Ellen he was
sure, for she had kissed back; but what good did that do when she
wouldn't let him see her any more? Here he was, stewing in this hole
for her sake, and he couldn't think of any way to make her see him,
while in the offing was that handsome peacock, Lopez, who knew all
about making love to women.
His watch on the bureau said two thirty; the whole darn town, resident
Americans as well as natives, would sleep until three. Nobody to talk
to, nowhere to go, and drinks didn't help much.
Tap, tap--a knock on the door.
"Come in, whoever you are," he called wearily. The door opened and a
very curious-looking man appeared on the threshold.
"_Perdóna me, señor_," he said, removing his hat, a very dirty Panama,
and bowing very low. He was small, half Indian by the look of him. He
wore a heavy black mustache, possessed only a few front teeth, and
needed a bath very badly. He was dressed in what had once been a khaki
uniform and around his waist was an ammunition belt from which was
suspended a heavy revolver in a leather holster, and a hunting knife.
On his feet were canvas shoes.
"What the deuce do you want?" demanded the American.
"You are Señor Morrison, _sí_?"
"Well, yes. What of it?"
"I introduce myself. I am General Esteban Pizzo." A second low bow.
Jim opened his eyes. "Not Pizzo, the bandit?"
"Pizzo, the patriot, _señor_."
"You got a nerve coming to town. Have a drink?"
"A thousand regrets, _señor_. There is not time. You will dress and
come with me."
"You go to the dickens," Jim retorted. "Clear out! Scat!"
General Pizzo drew from his holster his very large revolver. "My men,
they surround the hotel. You come or I kill."
"I'll come," Jim agreed quickly. He was unarmed and the fellow looked
villainous. "But why? What for?"
"I think the Señor Morrison pay very large ransom for his son. That is
why."
"Yes? Maybe he'll be glad to get rid of me. Can I put my clothes on?"
"_Porqué no?_"
Taking this for assent, Jim dressed leisurely, wondering how it was
possible for the bandit and his men to enter Rosa Blanca in the face of
the government army, walk into the leading hotel, and carry off one of
its most prominent guests.
"We go now," Pizzo declared, and Jim walked in front of him with the
uneasy feeling that a gun was pointed at the small of his back. They
walked along the corridor and descended the staircase one flight to
the ground floor. There were four bandits in the office. No guests were
visible or servants. The bandits fell in behind their leader and the
party moved to the door, which was suddenly blocked by Ellen Goring,
who frowned at the sight of Jim, and then took in his escort with
astonishment.
"What's this?" she exclaimed. "Another of your wonderful ideas?"
"Beat it, Ellen," he cried. "It's Pizzo, the bandit. I'm pinched."
"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "What--why--oh?"
For General Pizzo had come out from behind the broad form of Morrison
and covered Ellen with his big revolver.
"I regret," he said in his weird English. "_La señorita_ is beautiful,
but she make mistake to be here. Now she come with us. We take two
prisoners."
The whole affair had struck Jim Morrison as being comic opera, but the
statement of the bandit made it look very different. The brute was
pointing a gun at Ellen and talking about taking her into the hills.
With his usual precipitancy he let fly his right fist at the chin of
General Esteban Pizzo, caught him on the side of the jaw because he
happened to move, and sent him down like a log, the revolver clattering
on the floor. Jim forgot there were four more bandits behind him, and
before he remembered he was struck on the back of the head with the
butt of a long blue-barreled Colt and joined the general on the dirty
stone floor.
A rush of bandits captured Ellen before she could utter a cry, and a
dirty hairy hand covered her pretty mouth. General Pizzo got up from
the floor with a snarl of rage, kicked Jim Morrison heavily in the ribs
with one of his big boots, and then recovered his _sang-froid_.
"_Pronto!_" he exclaimed. "Throw the man and woman in the bottom of
the car and let us depart."
* * * * *
There was nobody in the Plaza when Jim and Ellen were placed in the
tonneau of a big though ancient touring car, and nobody to interfere
when the five bandits climbed in after them and drove away. The machine
rattled along through empty streets to the west side of the city and
came to the barrier which was guarded.
Half a dozen soldiers and a sergeant piled out of a stone hut and the
bandit who was driving stopped the car. The sergeant approached and
demanded the password, whereupon Pizzo leaned out and said in a low
tone:
"_El Presidente._"
"Pass," commanded the non-commissioned officer, and that was all there
was to it.
Jim had received a savage blow and had been unconscious during the
ten minutes required to get out of the city, but he recovered as the
machine began to bump over the rough country road, and he opened his
eyes to find Ellen's face within six inches of his own and her eyes
filled with anxiety. He realized that his head was pillowed on her
knees, and they were both in the bottom of an automobile. He recalled
everything.
"My dear," he said, "I'm so frightfully sorry."
"Hush," she said softly. "You were wonderful. It wasn't your fault."
The machine was climbing now in second gear, for the foothills of the
Sierras are close to the shore in Santa Rosa. The two bandits in the
back seat were watching them closely with their weapons drawn and
ready. He and Ellen were headed for hardships and dangers he could only
suspect, but Jim was happier than he had been for a week, because his
head was on Ellen's knees and she had said he was wonderful.
The machine was halted suddenly when several government cavalry men
blocked the road. Again the password was efficacious, the horsemen drew
to one side, and even the sight of two people in the bottom of the car
did not seem to disturb them.
"Does your head hurt terribly?" she whispered.
He grinned at her. "It would if I moved. I'm terribly sorry about you,
Ellen. They captured me to hold me for ransom, and no doubt they'll do
the same for you. I'll see that they get whatever they ask."
"I'm not afraid. It was very brave of you to attack them when you saw
that I was in danger." Her eyes were moist.
"Don't you know that I'd lay down my life for you?" he said softly.
"Only, as usual, everything I do is wrong. They might have let you go
if I had not hit Pizzo."
"No, no, they wouldn't," she protested. "They knew I would alarm the
city. They had to take me."
Pizzo, in the front seat, turned his head.
"Silence back there," he commanded harshly.
Something made Jim chuckle. "What is it?" she whispered.
"Motor bandits in this God-forsaken country. Jesse James had a horse."
It was getting cooler as they climbed, and the car rattled and shook
and bumped over a road which was more and more rocky and filled with
holes. At the end of an hour it turned off the apology for a road and
stopped a few rods within the jungle.
Pizzo got out first and approached the tonneau.
"Does the _señorita_ speak Spanish?" he asked.
Ellen nodded.
"It is my great regret that it has been necessary to take you with
us," he said, his black eyes devouring her loveliness. "You shall see
that General Pizzo is a _caballero_ who knows how to treat beautiful
ladies. This man is rich. We hold him for ransom, but we hold you to
delight the eyes of my brave patriots who one day will rule Santa Rosa."
"What's he saying?" demanded Jim, whose Spanish was hopeless.
Ellen had turned pale at what his remarks implied, but she feared to
tell the headstrong youth. Jim was likely to get himself killed out of
hand.
"Just fulsome compliments," she said.
"And now we must mount our horses," continued Pizzo. "If Señor Morrison
cannot ride we shall tie him on a horse."
Jim most reluctantly lifted himself from his pillow. "I can ride," he
said curtly.