ANTONIO'S CONFESSION
These were the facts: Natan had been grooming the horses, Nimrod and
Buster, when suddenly and soundlessly there appeared before the window
in the stables' rear, the misshapen head and shoulders of typo
Ferdinand Bernal. He was mounted on a snow-white horse and seemed to
the superstitious stable boy to have risen out of the ground. Buster,
also, had appeared to be frightened for a few seconds, though he
speedily recovered his equine calmness and merely whinnied his
delight, while he attempted to secure another mouthful of alfalfa
before the bridle slipped into place over his head.
"Natan, the little captain," whispered Ferd, through the narrow
casement.
"Well, yes; the little captain," returned the other, in a louder tone,
and grinning at his own astuteness in discovering that this was a
white horse so very like the "spook horse" that it might be one and
the same. Some of Antonio's schemes he had fathomed, being himself a
sort of schemer in his own stupid way.
"I want her. She must come. Antonio dies."
"Antonio--fiddles!" retorted the other, contemptuously. Then saw, to
his surprise, that Ferd's head had dropped upon that of his strange
steed and that he was whimpering and sobbing in a pitiful fashion,
well calculated to deceive the unwary. It was at this juncture that,
fancying to see her beloved Buster made ready for her ride, Jessica
ran singing into the stable, and paused amazed at sight of Ferd,
weeping, and so oddly mounted. Horses there were galore in the
Sobrante stables and pastures, but never one like this; so white, so
spirited, and yet so marvelously marked. For even by the daylight,
there in the slight shadow of the wall, the animal's eyes glowed with
an unearthly light, terrifying to Natan and startling even to her
fearless self. Indeed it had not been until the moment of her
appearance and Buster's whinnied welcome, that Ferd's horse had turned
its face toward them and revealed his curious visage.
"Why, Ferdinand Bernal!" she cried, giving him his full title, and
thereby mystifying still further the wondering groom. "I do believe
that's the very creature that's been scaring such a lot of people
everywhere! How came you by it and what ails its eyes?"
Ferd lifted a face that was grimy with dirt and streaked with tears.
His misery was evident and needed no words to impress it upon the
tenderhearted girl, who ran to the window, begging:
"What is the matter, Ferd? Poor Ferd! are you ill? In trouble? What?"
"The death. It is the accursed house. Where death comes once--he is
always there. He told me--you must come. Come; now, right away, si.
Before--too late. He said it. Antonio, my brother."
"You know that, then--about your relationship? But what has happened
to him?"
The dwarf glanced at Natan and motioned to her to send him away. For
reasons of his own, the groom was glad enough to obey, because dire
had been the threats of the mighty-fisted Samson, as well as the
stern John Benton, against any on that ranch who should be caught
"consorting with that low-lived Ferd or the late manager." Besides, in
spite of Jessica's apparent indifference to the glowing eyes of the
white horse they infected him with a horrible fear; so he made his
escape at the first chance; leading Nimrod around to the house and
tying him there to await Ninian's pleasure, while he himself resorted
to the most distant and safest spot he could find. This had seemed, in
his mind, the mission corridor; but he found it already occupied by a
party of the ranchmen who had no desire for his society, and after a
short delay frankly told him so. It was in passing from this ancient
structure to his own room in another building that he had been
intercepted by John, and called to account.
Yet, sometime before this, Jessica had finished her interview with the
unhappy Ferd; had written her note of explanation to Ninian, though
keeping her destination secret, as the hunchback implored, in
accordance with Antonio's wish; had dispatched her message by Ned and
Luis; and, unknown to them, had rapidly ridden away in company with
the white horse and her treacherous guide--to comfort the dying.
That death should have come again to the cabin on the mesa, whither
she was led, seemed natural enough to her; remembering with such keen
sorrow the passing of old Pedro.
And for once Antonio Bernal had told the truth. Lying helpless, almost
motionless, on the narrow bed in the shepherd's home, he greeted his
visitor with a pitiful smile on his white face, and a tone from which
the last vestige of his old bravado had departed: "The Captain! si.
You did well to come, my Lady Jess. But you are not afraid?"
"Why should I be afraid, Antonio? You are ill, I see that. What's
wrong? What can I do to help you?"
"Nothing. There is nothing. I played my game and I lost. I--I saw you
last night at the window."
"And I saw you; I knew you; but I did not know why you were fixed like
that and had painted your poor horse all white."
"Ha! You saw that? You, when nobody--older--well, I lost."
"Are you hurt? What can have happened to you since then?"
"Shot. On the way here, fearing nothing, a passing horseman, unknown,
braver or quicker than the rest, thought he could rid the country of
its ghost. Ah, yes! it was merry--for a time. It is past."
Jessica was crying softly, unable to endure the sight of agony, even
his who had tried to injure her and hers. The sick man perceived this
and something of the affection he had once felt for his master's
child, before he had betrayed that master's trust, stirred him to
speak and thrilled him with compunction. He felt himself to be doomed;
he had already sent Ferd away again to summon a priest; and according
to his faith he meant to make his peace with the world; but these
preparations had been on his own account only. Now he began to feel
something for her also.
Suddenly she ceased crying and stood up to bend over him and beg that
she might be allowed to help him. "A drink of water--some coffee? You
were always so fond of coffee, Antonio, and I know where Pedro kept
all his things. So many, many times we drank it here together, he and
I. And you--how came you here, Antonio?"
"Where better or nearer could I be? Pedro, the most obliging, yes.
Just when I needed his house he left it. Si. Why, but I am better
still, is it not, I?"
Indeed his color had improved and his voice grown stronger since
Jessica's arrival; and he was able to take the cup of coffee which she
made him. This was more palatable than anything Ferd had prepared and
stimulated him still further. For a few moments after he had taken it
he felt so improved that he almost gave up the doing of that for which
he had summoned her. But a sudden return of pain again alarmed him,
and as soon as that spasm was past, he motioned her to the bedside.
"In the cupboard--look, quick!" he whispered, pointing to a set of
shelves built upon the wall and behind whose locked doors Pedro had
been accustomed to store his baskets.
Jessica tried the little door, which refused to open, and to her
inquiry for the key, Antonio pointed to his own pillow. After a slight
hesitation she approached and secured the key from beneath it; but
when she had opened the cupboard found that all the Indian's exquisite
weaving had been removed. In its place was the metal-pointed staff,
with its shank broken in half, and she exclaimed, indignantly:
"Oh! how could you do that, Antonio? And how could you be so mean as
to take it from two children?"
"Ha! Once it was all mine--this land. The copper in the canyon, mine,
also. Si. The padres' secret which the shepherd kept was mine----No,
no; not yet!" he broke off, with a sudden, delirious scream, fancying
he saw the head of a man appearing without the door.
His outcry set Jessica shivering with fear at being alone in that
isolated spot with a possible madman; but a second glance into his
pallid face restored her natural courage and assured her that he was
powerless to injure her, even had he wished to do so. Just then, too,
Buster whinnied and she felt that he was company. It sounded as if he
had seen some stable companion of his own and had welcomed it; yet
this could not be, of course, since nobody knew of her whereabouts or
would be likely to come to the mesa now. Therefore, she did not follow
Antonio's glance doorward, but sought at once to relieve his
distress.
"Won't you drink another cup of coffee, Antonio? Or shall I make you a
bit of porridge? There's hot water still in the kettle and I know how.
I've made it for my mother, often, when she was ill; and the little
boys always have it. Oh, I can do it quite well!"
She was so eager to serve him, and the pain had once more so greatly
lessened for the time being, that the late manager graciously
consented, and with such an absurd assumption of his old "top-lofty"
manner that Jessica laughed even while she hastened to put on the tiny
porringer and seek the meal. The little oil stove blazed merrily, and
so deft was she that, in a very few minutes more, she had a dish of
the steaming mush beside the cot and had thinned a cup of condensed
milk with which to make it the more palatable. Sugar there was in
plenty, for Pedro had loved sweets; so that nothing was wanted, save
appetite, to render the repast all that was desirable; yet when it was
quite ready Antonio could not take it.
The pain had returned and with added intensity; and it was due to that
fact that he no longer delayed the confession he had sent for her to
hear.
"Hark! Behold! I talk."
"Yes, Antonio, I'm listening."
"Well, I--how begin? It is a story long, not pleasant."
"Wait. Open your mouth and I will feed you. Yes, do."
His black eyes stared at her, astonished. In her place had anybody
done him the ill that he had done her, he would have let his enemy
starve and have rejoiced at a suffering well deserved. But this
child--he wished she would turn her face away, and not look upon him
with that innocent compassion. She was too like her dead father, and
his one best friend; whom in life he had really loved and in death had
not scrupled to despoil.
"Come, Antonio, eat. Afterward you'll be stronger to talk," she said,
as coaxingly as if he had been her little brother, Ned; and thus
persuaded, he opened his mouth and received the morsel she forced upon
him. Thus it continued; she feeding, he resting and with halting
eagerness relating the story of his own misdeeds.
"For I must go to pay the price. Si. But the poor lad, my half-wit
brother Ferd, ugly, sinful, desolate--he will be left alone. Is it
not? For him, if I restore all, there may still be kindness and a home
at Sobrante, that should all be his--if----"
"No, Antonio; you know better. That is a poor, foolish notion that has
been put into your head. You know; for Mr. Hale, who is a lawyer and
understands everything like that, told you and us that you hadn't a
bit of right to a bit of land anywhere in this world. Unless, indeed,
you may have bought it since that little while ago in Los Angeles. And
if you have, where did you get the money?"
"Lo dicho dicho," he muttered the Spanish phrase: "What I have said I
have said," and sighed profoundly, as one hopelessly aggrieved.
Jessica lost her temper. She forgot that he was ill and remembered
only that he was imputing treachery to her parents and to others whom
she loved, and retorted, warmly:
"What you have 'said' doesn't make the truth, Senor Bernal. And if you
have anything to tell me I wish you would tell it now. I ought to be
at home with Mr. Sharp, who's come to make us a visit. My mother is
away, and it's rude to leave guests alone like that. I, who want to be
a perfect lady, do hate to be rude. So tell, please, and quick."
"It was he, then, whom I saw on the road with old Ephraim, yes?" cried
Antonio, in a voice which was certainly much stronger than it had been
when Lady Jess arrived.
"Yes, it was he. Now begin, please. What first?"
Neither the man on the bed nor the girl who listened to him so
intently suspected that other ears were as eager to hear this dying
confession. Yet so it was, and Buster's short whinny of welcome had
been a real one. For John, on Moses, and Ninian, on Nimrod, had lost
but little time in riding to the mesa; though because of the
reporter's poor horsemanship, the carpenter felt that they would
really save time by taking the longer level road around by the north,
and not the narrow canyon trail, which was dangerous for the
inexperienced. This had consumed some time, but each felt a thrill of
relief, when they at last arrived, to see Buster calmly nibbling at
the dry herbage near the shepherd's cabin.
"Where Buster is Jessica is, this time," said the carpenter, softly.
"And I was right. I'd heard of this spook being seen up here, and fool
folks layin' it to poor Old Century. That's why I came. We didn't make
any mistake, did we?"
Then as they approached nearer to the house and quietly dismounted to
hobble their horses, he added:
"Let's go up sly. Everything seems terrible still, and I'd like to
take a peek through that back window 'fore we let on we've come."
Ninian was not so cautious; or, rather, he was more anxious about the
little captain, and protested:
"How do we know but that this silence means mischief? If he has sent
for her to harm her----"
"Hark! She's all right. Thank God for that. I can hear her laughing,
and he's a coward. She isn't; and, anyway, he'd think twice 'fore
he hurt a hair of that child's head. Why, man, his life wouldn't be
worth a minute's purchase if he dared! He'd be hunted to his own
destruction so quick you couldn't say 'scat.' Humph! He may be after
mischief--'cause he hasn't been after anything else since Cass'us
died--but he'll keep within bounds. Now, this way. Lucky the grass is
thick; but even so, don't tread too heavy. Right behind that rear
wall, close against the east, is the place to hear all and not be
seen."
Therefore, as noiselessly and hastily as possible, they placed
themselves within earshot of what was said within the house; and the
story they heard, reduced to simplest facts, was to the effect, as
follows:
Upon receiving his discharge from legal detention at Los Angeles,
Antonio had felt a homesick longing for his old haunts. He had
returned without telling anybody of his intention and had taken up his
abode at Solano's ranch, where his unfortunate brother and the only
person for whom he still cared was frequently to be found. There the
dwarf had joined him, though rambling away again, from time to time,
on errands of his own of which he neither spoke nor was questioned.
"Money, money! That's the one thing, the only thing, no! Get money,
Ferd whenever, however, wherever you can and what you get you keep.
Hear me," had been Antonio's constant instruction during all the years
of the hunchback's life; and to the dwarf's limited understanding, his
adored brother typified incarnate wisdom.
He had anticipated high praise when, one day, he came back to Solano's
and reported his hiding of the little captain in the canyon cave. The
praise was not so ready at first, for Antonio was astute enough to see
whither such a hazardous scheme might lead; but the approbation came
unstained when, later, Ferd again appeared, describing Pedro's
behavior at the time of the rescue and of the curious action of the
ancient staff. Sent back alone to bring fresh specimens of the mineral
Pedro had unearthed, Ferd had suddenly turned stubborn and refused to
go more than halfway. Pedro had died suddenly, and Pedro's ghost would
haunt the spot; no, even Antonio should not compel him thither. He
would do anything, everything else, but go to the canyon cave again he
would not.
Indeed Antonio now felt that it was hardly necessary he should. The
poor lad's superstition had suggested a better way. With Solano's aid,
the deluded "top-lofty" hatched a notable scheme. He would himself
impersonate Old Century's uneasy spirit, which could not rest because
he had betrayed the secret of the ancient padres. Nero could be made
as white as any ghost horse by the application of a little paint; and
shod with rubber could pass over the sandy roads with almost as little
noise as any spectral steed. It was easy to bribe and terrify two
small boys into securing and restoring to him the pointed wand, even
if by their effort to obtain it they might happen to fall and break
it. That mattered little, however, since the point was all that he
wanted; but it was just as well to have that money he had seen through
the window, that night of his first appearance on Sobrante grounds.
That, too, was easy to get if one watched his opportunity in that
cactus tunnel Ferd had scooped for his brother's convenience. An
unsuspecting, busy household left many chances for entering an
open-windowed room, and who had ever been so familiar as he with the
supposed safety secret place in which the key was kept? With the money
he had found also the bit of copper Pedro had procured; and he knew
enough of mining matters to rejoice, indeed. He had meant to do great
things. He would prosecute his land claim to the uttermost; and there
were plenty of unscrupulous men who would undertake his cause for a
share in the profits of a copper mine. This very mesa would have been
the scene of their first operations. Here the mill would have been
built, and here----
"But what the use? The hand of punishment is upon me, yes. The money,
it is there. Ferd shall tell of all the rest that he has put
somewhere, I know not. His poor brain cannot carry out the plan, and
to me it avails no more. Ay de mi! But Solano--beware. Of some things
he knows, and of more he suspects, is it not? Ah! I weary, I languish,
I die, I, Antonio Bernal, heir to wealth so boundless. It was so fine
a plan--so most wonderful and simple. The fools, how they feared! Oh!
the laughter I had! and the wild, rides on my so splendid ghost horse,
yes. But I die--I die; and the great big plan for the copper turned to
gold--I--who else will have the so great intellect, you call it, to
make it real? Well, I have done. The staff I return--useless, save to
me. The money--I cannot carry whither I must ride on the white horse
of death--whiter than--the pity! The pity! Poor Antonio! Poor, poor
Antonio!"
His long talk had, indeed, wearied him to faintness; but while his own
tears rained down his cheeks in his self-pity, even as Jessica's in
sympathetic sorrow, a cheerful and hearty voice cried through the
window:
"Don't fret yourself, top-lofty! There's one or two other smart men
left, my friend, to carry out that noble scheme of yours, and my name
ain't John Benton, if they don't do it! More'n that, I'll promise you
a few more years to spend in wickedness, if you like. On one
condition."
Antonio's eyes almost leaped from his head in amaze at this
interruption and greater amazement at this astounding promise; and
John was swift to press his advantage:
"I'll save your life--on one condition!"