BY WAY OF THE BALCONY.
Julio had doubtless made other calculations during his life, only to
find them turn out Dead Sea fruit.
In this case his confidence was on a par with the natural ferocity of
his disposition, but as frequently happens, he overshot the mark.
Roderic met his assault and went him one better--he turned the
Spaniard's eager blade aside with the quick movement of one to the
manner born.
No doubt Julio was surprised, but he never let anything interfere with
business.
A second rush, another rebuff.
This was growing monotonous--really, it began to look as though the
unknown cavalier might be playing with him.
Nothing could arouse the devil in a Spanish heart quicker than this
suspicion.
Humiliation is to the proud don worse than any other ill save
death--relieve him from this indignity and you can have all else.
So Julio, instead of taking warning from the ease with which his
assaults were turned aside, instead of calling upon his patron saint
for protection should this master of the steel turn the tables and
begin to assail him, only swore the harder and went recklessly into the
push.
Their little imbroglio had by this time attracted considerable
attention.
Men called out to one another and came hurrying pell mell to the
scene--fond of cock fights and the meeting of bull and _toreadors_
in the arena, these fellows hailed a street brawl as a special
dispensation of Providence on their behalf.
Already a ring was forming, a ring composed of dark visaged men, some
Spanish soldiers, others natives of the noble city of San Juan, but all
desirous of observing the exciting drama that was being played as if
especially for their particular benefit.
All of which was bad for Roderic.
No matter what measure of success followed his engagement with Julio,
he was apt to find it a serious matter to escape an encounter with
these hangers on, whose sympathies seemed to be with the dancer,
judging from the way in which his name was coupled with cries of direct
encouragement.
These same bravos urged Julio to make a third vicious attack where
prudence might have suggested that he cover his weakness by falling
back on the defense.
Roderic thought the farce had gone far enough--he was desirous
of leaving the locality ere it became too hot for a man of his
description; and besides, there was at least a small chance that this
impassioned athlete who struck out so blindly, regardless of his own
uncovered condition, might inflict an accidental wound.
So he locked horns with the Spaniard and tripped him up.
Julio never knew how it was done, for he was a pigmy in the hands of a
master.
He felt some tremendous power seize upon his person so that he was
borne irresistibly backward; at the same time a sudden acute thrill of
agony in his right wrist caused him to drop his knife as though it had
been scorching his fingers.
"Senor Julio," said the voice in his ear, "again I say it was all a
mistake--again I apologize for my hasty action. You have defended your
honor as became a true son of Spain! There is no need of our seeking
each other's life. I am satisfied that I have met a brave man. Let us
separate in peace."
This was said with such fervor as became a loyal subject of young
Alphonso--it carried such a subtle vein of flattery in the adroit words
that even the fiery son of Mars Julio was proving himself to be might
have been mollified, only that a discovery flashed upon him at this
critical juncture.
It was singular enough that he should set his eyes upon an odd looking
seal ring worn by his late antagonist, and at this particular moment
too of all times.
Julio had never forgotten that ring--indeed, he had carried a rough
impression of it upon his cuticle for a week or more, as a gentle
reminder of Roderic's ability as a boxer, for it seems that the two
rivals had indeed once come to blows in those days of old, though
separated quickly by mutual friends.
However, such an impression is apt to be lasting--Julio had seen the
queer device of that signet ring many times in his dreams, so that its
unexpected appearance just now and here was a rude shock.
Roderic saw the stare and while at first he could not comprehend its
import, when he too cast his eyes upon his hand he remembered.
This was worse than he had expected--his identity known to Julio what
would prevent the hasty tempered Spaniard, who still owed him a grudge
for the blow received long ago, from publicly announcing his name to
the soldiers, who would pounce upon him like mad dogs.
He had expected at the worst to be treated as a Spaniard--now the
bubble had burst.
Was it to be flight?
Involuntarily he looked around him--the circle had doubled, aye, even
trebled, and to break through such a compact mass would require the
battering powers of a giant.
What then?
Must he draw his revolver and simply sell his life as dearly as
possible?
It may be sweet to die for one's country, but most men much prefer to
live, especially when health and wealth and honor are their inheritance
by right of birth.
Roderic never felt less like giving up the ghost in all his life than
he did just then.
He had been far down below zero up to the moment when he discovered
that it was not Georgia who accompanied Julio, and then of a sudden his
spirits took a bound that sent them away above fever heat; life assumed
a rosy hue, and happiness came again within his grasp.
A man of remarkable resources in emergencies, Roderic felt no dismay
paralyze his limbs when he discovered how next to impossible it was
that he make his escape through the crowd.
There were other methods.
He had made it a rule in life never to depend wholly upon one source of
income--to avoid the mistake of putting all his eggs in one basket.
Julio's scattered wits came back.
He even smiled, but there was a devil in that smirk; a gleam in his
eyes that told of gloating triumph.
He had been easily beaten in the little game of the knife, but there
were still trump cards up his sleeve--he laughed loudest who laughed
last, and the time had come for him to settle that long standing
debt--the scar of that wound had burned like wild fire every time he
looked at it, but it would cease to cry out for satisfaction after this
August night.
"Aha! Senor Owen, 'tis thus we meet again. You thought this lady was
your sweet Georgia--you took your life in your hands when you set out
to discover the truth. Again you have crossed my path--this time it
is your last. I shall turn to these brave soldiers of Spain and tell
them who you are. They will be very affectionate Senor Owen, they will
love you so well that every mother's son will want a portion of your
precious body to remember this night by. Have you anything to say
before I give the word?"
Roderic remembered how the judge when about to pass sentence of death
used words like this.
He was mute--it would avail nothing after all, and he did not intend
the Spaniard should have the satisfaction of hearing him plead.
This trouble had come upon him through his own stupidity--the burning
in his chest, the unjust suspicions that found lodgment in his mind
urged him to take drastic measures in order to learn the truth; and now
that he had found out just what it all meant he should not complain if
it came hard.
"Ho! he has lost his tongue--or his knowledge of the noble Spanish
language fails him. _Por Dios!_ we shall see how he can be made to
lift up his voice, to cry like a dog, to squeal like the pig he is, to
beg for mercy. Now Senor Hero of the Knife, take notice that it is I,
Julio, the Maccarena dancer and bull fighter who contemptuously tosses
you to the tender mercies of these gentlemen as I would a yellow cur."
He turned to bawl his intelligence to the gaping crowd, to proclaim
the seeming dark faced stranger a wolf in sheep's clothing, one of the
hated Yengees who were coming to destroy everything.
Before he could burst out with his startling tale however, the girl who
had accompanied him took a sudden part in the drama, springing forward
and catching hold of his arm as she cried:
"You speak of Senor Owen, of Georgia--and a light breaks in upon my
mind. Julio, you _must_ not go further--this man should be safe from
your malice. He has not injured me--see, because of Leon I forgive
him--I even extend him my hand. Why not, when he loves the sister and
my heart belongs to the brother?"
Then Roderic's turn came to be amazed, for these words informed him of
a strange fact--he remembered the story Georgia had told him of her
brother, and how Leon had been saved by the daughter of the Spanish
governor in charge of Morro Castle--fate had brought him face to face
with that devoted girl, and through her might he not learn where Leon
could be found?
Julio was the only obstacle, and Julio, having been several times
thwarted in his designs for a personal vengeance upon this man who was
so closely associated with his past could not be easily placated.
A pretty woman might have considerable influence over him under
ordinary conditions, but just now he wanted blood and was bound to have
his desires fulfilled.
Accordingly he brushed the girl aside in an ugly manner that betrayed
his nasty temper--brushed her away as carelessly as one might dispose
of a fly that persisted in annoying the early morning nap of a sybarite.
Then he gave tongue, denouncing the other in unmeasured terms as
a Yankee spy come to wreck their forts, to betray the city, to do
anything and everything that was dreadful in the eyes of good loyal
Spaniards.
It made quite a striking scene, with the picturesque Julio in his
dashing garb thus violently shouting his private opinion of Yankees
in general and the one before them in particular, while the beautiful
daughter of Morro's governor was clinging to his gesticulating arm and
endeavoring to overcome his mad language, the crowd meanwhile beginning
to shout answering cries that announced their quick grasp of the
situation.
Roderic would not soon forget that picture, if he lived through the
adventure.
Again he owed much to that love of fair play predominating in the
breast of gentle woman.
It had however, gone beyond any power on her part to prevent an
explosion.
If he escaped with a whole skin it must be through his own exertions.
Fortunately he was able to grasp the situation and bring order out of
seeming chaos.
The one sweeping glance which he had taken around had told him of an
avenue where a desperate man could find a chance.
As in many parts of San Juan the houses in this narrow _calle_ were
rich in the possession of balconies--Spaniards would be lost without
some such addition to their homes, for the women live half of the time
upon these overhanging galleries.
The sound of angry voices in the street had brought a number of people
out, and they were curious spectators of what followed.
Chance, or Providence, as you will, had taken Roderic directly
underneath one of these balconies.
By raising his hands above his head he could just touch it.
To an agile man it was a small matter to give an upward leap and secure
a firm grasp above; nor did he consider it any extraordinary feat to
draw himself over the railing after the manner of an athlete.
Cries of astonishment announced that his intention had become known to
the crowd, and almost paralyzed them.
Mingled with these exclamations were shouts of rage from those more
disposed to action.
Julio, being the nearest was the first to make a spring for the swaying
body of the Yankee, but miscalculating the pendulum movement of his
body he was just in time to receive the full impetus of his forward
swing.
As a consequence he took a sudden tumble, bringing up in the arms of
the nearest soldiers.
Roderic had good intentions, and was not to be thwarted by such minor
disturbances.
This must be looked upon only as an incident, one of those petty
affairs which, when grasped in the general run of events are to be
throttled and cast aside.
He continued his movement as unconcernedly as though it were a private
instead of a public exhibition, which feature was one of the strongest
points in Owen's general make up.
Several of the soldiers seemed to have some common sense about them,
or at least found inspiration in the action led by Julio, for they too
made a forward movement, intending to clutch hold of Roderic's swaying
body ere he could snatch it out of their reach.
That they were unsuccessful in this endeavor was not so much
their fault as their misfortune, since no one could doubt the
hearty enthusiasm with which they meant to pull the Yankee's leg,
an undertaking in general at which Spanish regulars are usually
proficient, especially those who have attained officer's rank.
The girl came between them and their intended victim--she had saved one
Yankee from barbarous treatment at the hands of her people, and having
thus entered the field as a champion of the oppressed, considered that
she might as well continue her labors.
Of course she could not effectually bar the enthusiastic rush of the
military forces, but for a few seconds she served as an obstacle to
their forward movement, and even that brief time was enough for Roderic.
He completed his deal.
There was at least some satisfaction in the knowledge that he stood
temporarily out of the reach of those who would destroy him.
A partial success brings with it new difficulties, new problems to be
solved, and one must be always ready to grapple with the forces that
are thrown to the front.
Owen did not consider that he had taken more than the first step toward
safety.
The wolves were just below, clamoring for his blood, for his sudden
flight had crystalized the various shouts into one mad outburst of rage.
So far as he knew there was nothing to prevent some of them from
copying his example; he judged there must be athletes enough in the
throng for this business.
It was not his purpose to remain there upon the balcony, and meet all
comers in a Greco-Roman wrestle for the mastery.
He had started to escape, and it were useless lingering longer in view
of the rapidly growing throng.
One way was open to him, through the house to which the balcony was
attached.