A WEAKENED GARRISON
With the disappearance of the engineer’s drawings the mystery that
surrounded the man with the scarred foot was doubled. Neither Jack nor
Mr. Ryder could be quite positive of the clue they had been following. To
them the fact that the trouble maker went about without shoes argued that
he was a peon, and they could well understand why a peon, imbued with the
spirit of revolution, should seek to make conditions as uncomfortable as
possible for President Huerta, against whose rule they were revolting.
That the person in question should undertake to wreck the power plant,
or portions of it, seemed quite natural. But when it came to stealing
drawings that were absolutely useless to them the whole affair took on a
different complexion.
Who was this individual with the scar on his foot? Was he a peon or was
he some one of the other employees about the plant? Or again, was he a
soldier, or a member of the band of rurales, or was he some one of the
bandits in the mountains who ran the guard at night and accomplished
his trickery under the very eyes of soldiers and employees? The whole
situation was thoroughly muddled and Jack and Mr. Ryder spent days trying
to fathom the knotty problem. To a technical man the drawings were of
the utmost value, for they laid bare to him the secret of an invention
that would make him wealthy. But on the other hand it would seem that the
man was moved more by his sympathies with the revolutionists than by his
desire for personal gain, since it was quite apparent that the person who
was so industriously engaged in making things disagreeable for President
Huerta and the man who stole the drawings was the same individual.
“It is a mighty peculiar situation,” said Mr. Ryder one evening, after he
and Jack had been puzzling over the matter for several hours. “This is
my only conclusion. The man must be a peon, or a soldier, for they are
the only persons hereabout who are interested in the revolution at all.
He has heard of the drawings somehow, and believing that they would be of
value to Zapata or Carranza (or whoever else he favors), he stole them.
Later on he will probably turn them over to some one of these leaders
with the hope, perhaps, that he will be given a commission or some other
form of recognition for his service to the cause.
“But after I have reached that conclusion,” he added, “I am not
absolutely certain that I am shooting in the right direction.”
For some time after the disappearance of the papers everything ran
smoothly at the plant. But in the meantime disconcerting rumors were
coming in from the mountains about bands of Zapatistas who were
gathering at all points. The rurales who went out to patrol the hills
and in particular to ride the transmission line to see that it was not
disturbed were the first to bring in reports of skirmishes with these
rebels. Almost daily several of the soldier-policemen would locate a
handful of armed natives somewhere in the hills. Always a fight followed
which resulted in at least one or two fatalities. More than once these
green-clad riders came into Necaxa with dead or wounded comrades in their
arms. And on several occasions they appeared at the power plant with
prisoners bound hand and foot and tied to the backs of horses or burros
like so many sacks of flour.
Short work was made of these men. Their fate was sealed the moment they
were captured by the rurales. As a matter of form they were given a
drumhead trial; that is, they were taken before the chief officer of
the rurales and asked a number of unimportant questions. No matter how
these questions were answered the sentence was the same. The natives were
always condemned to be shot at sunrise the following morning.
Jack was present at the trial of one of these unfortunates and after the
rebel was taken to the guardhouse the lad and Mr. Ryder went to visit
him. It gave Jack a rather uncanny feeling when he realized that the man
with whom they were talking would be dead and cold in ten hours. The
Vermonter was up before sunrise to see the prisoner led out and placed
against the gray wall of the power plant. The firing squad was composed
of five men and an officer who stood with sword drawn while a soldier
bound a handkerchief about the eyes of the victim. When this was done the
executioners took careful aim and waited for the abrupt command to fire.
The five guns roared simultaneously, and Jack grew sick as he saw the
blindfolded figure sway backward first, then recover its balance only
to pitch forward with a groan and become an inert and lifeless mass.
When the smoke had cleared away the officer walked calmly up to the dead
man and drawing his revolver emptied the entire six chambers into the
already lifeless body. This, Jack learned, was prescribed by the military
regulations of Mexico, which state that an officer in charge of a firing
squad, is held responsible for the certain death of the victim.
The rurales, however, were not the only ones to bring in word of the
gathering of the Zapatistas. One day three men left the plant on a
handcar trip of inspection along the narrow gage railroad track.
One took a Winchester rifle with him while the others carried their
revolvers. On their return journey they were met at a bend in the road
by six rebels. One had a rifle but the others were armed only with
_machettes_, or long brush knives. The men from the plant were ordered to
stop, of course, but they did not obey. Instead they started to pump the
handles harder and since the tracks were down grade at that point their
car had gained tremendous headway by the time they reached the natives.
Fortunately the peons had not had forethought enough to plug the railroad
tracks or loosen a rail in which case the car would have been wrecked and
the inspectors killed immediately. As it was they ran past the natives
at top speed. The Mexican with the rifle opened fire and the man with
the Winchester replied, but he was only able to get in one shot before
the handle of the car knocked the rifle from his grasp. One of the other
men drew his six shooter and emptied it as he went flying past. It was a
narrow escape and the three inspectors were glad when they reached the
power plant.
Shortly after this experience some excitement was created at the station
when Lyman noticed that one of his indicators recorded a grounded
transmission line. Two linemen and a squad of rurales were despatched to
locate the trouble. Five miles back in the mountains they found a dead
peon clinging to one of the steel transmission poles and the story of
the ground was revealed instantly. This peon had climbed the pole and
with his steel _machette_ tried to cut through one of the transmission
lines. The moment the blade came in contact with the cable a circuit was
formed and the entire 88,000 volts were sent through the man’s body. His
companions, seeing his fate, had fled without even attempting to rescue
him.
These demonstrations on the part of the rebels did not add to the peace
of mind of the men at the power plant. Indeed every one began to feel
the strain, for the station was veritably in a state of siege. Rumors
came into Necaxa by way of the peons from the Indian village down the
valley, that José Cerro, one of the fiercest of the mountain bandits and
a strong ally of Zapata, was in charge of the horde that was gathering in
the hills in that vicinity. After that no one felt inclined to leave the
station except when accompanied by a guard of rurales and all inspection
of railroad and transmission lines was done with the aid of soldiers.
Then one day in the midst of it all the officer in charge of the infantry
reported to Mr. Ryder that he had been in communication with General
Rodriguez and had received orders to move his entire detachment back to
Mexico City. The engineer could not believe his ears. With all haste he
called up the capital on the long-distance telephone.
“Why, you won’t need soldiers out there any longer,” said the military
officer after the engineer had protested vigorously to the removal of the
guard. “You don’t need soldiers because Zapata is moving his whole army
toward the Atlantic coast. He’s evidently heard of the shipment of arms
coming in on the German steamer and hopes to intercept them on their way
to the capital. If he takes the railroad we are lost. That’s why we want
your soldiers. We must have them. The rebel chief has withdrawn all his
men from your section of the country so I’m sure you won’t need them.”
“Oh, is that so,” said Mr. Ryder, thoroughly angry. “Well, there are a
few hundred lurking out here in the woods just now and I am expecting an
attack almost any time.”
“You are mistaken, I am sure,” said the officer; “there may be a few
bandits about in the mountains but the Zapatistas have all followed their
leader. I am very sorry, but we need all the soldiers you have at Necaxa.
However, if you are at all alarmed I will leave you a detachment of
twenty-five infantrymen who, with the squad of rurales you have stationed
there, will be able to defend the place against a few bandits. Good-by.”
The soldiers entrained that very afternoon, much to the chagrin of Mr.
Ryder and the other Americans.
“By George, this is the queerest piece of work I have ever seen,” said
Mr. Ryder. “If Zapata has moved his men, José Cerro did not follow his
leader, for he’s out there in the mountains with two hundred men and
he’ll swoop down on us in short order when he hears how weak our garrison
is. Just watch how bold those greasers get when they learn that the
infantry has been called back to Mexico City.”