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diff --git a/old/54068-0.txt b/old/54068-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 547d96c..0000000 --- a/old/54068-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13685 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hearts of Three, by Jack London - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Hearts of Three - - -Author: Jack London - - - -Release Date: January 28, 2017 [eBook #54068] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEARTS OF THREE*** - - -E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Nore: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/heartsofthreejack00londrich - - - - - -HEARTS OF THREE - -by - -JACK LONDON - -Author of “The Valley of the Moon,” -“Jerry of the Islands,” -“Michael, Brother of Jerry,” &c., &c. - - - - - - -Mills & Boon, Limited -49 Rupert Street -London, W. - -Copyright in the United States of America by Jack London. - - - - - FOREWORD - - -I hope the reader will forgive me for beginning this foreword with a -brag. In truth, this yarn is a celebration. By its completion I -celebrate my fortieth birthday, my fiftieth book, my sixteenth year in -the writing game, and a new departure. “Hearts of Three” is a new -departure. I have certainly never done anything like it before; I am -pretty certain never to do anything like it again. And I haven’t the -least bit of reticence in proclaiming my pride in having done it. And -now, for the reader who likes action, I advise him to skip the rest of -this brag and foreword, and plunge into the narrative, and tell me if it -just doesn’t read along. - -For the more curious let me explain a bit further. With the rise of -moving pictures into the overwhelmingly most popular form of amusement -in the entire world, the stock of plots and stories in the world’s -fiction fund began rapidly to be exhausted. In a year a single producing -company, with a score of directors, is capable of filming the entire -literary output of the entire lives of Shakespeare, Balzac, Dickens, -Scott, Zola, Tolstoy, and of dozens of less voluminous writers. And -since there are hundreds of moving pictures producing companies, it can -be readily grasped how quickly they found themselves face to face with a -shortage of the raw material of which moving pictures are fashioned. - -The film rights in all novels, short stories, and plays that were still -covered by copyright, were bought or contracted for, while all similar -raw material on which copyright had expired was being screened as -swiftly as sailors on a placer beach would pick up nuggets. Thousands of -scenario writers—literally tens of thousands, for no man, nor woman, nor -child was too mean not to write scenarios—tens of thousands of scenario -writers pirated through all literature (copyright or otherwise), and -snatched the magazines hot from the press to steal any new scene or plot -or story hit upon by their writing brethren. - -In passing, it is only fair to point out that, though only the other -day, it was in the days ere scenario writers became respectable, in the -days when they worked overtime for rough-neck directors for fifteen and -twenty a week or freelanced their wares for from ten to twenty dollars -per scenario and half the time were beaten out of the due payment, or -had their stolen goods stolen from them by their equally graceless and -shameless fellows who slaved by the week. But to-day, which is only a -day since the other day, I know scenario writers who keep their three -machines, their two chauffeurs, send their children to the most -exclusive prep schools, and maintain an unwavering solvency. - -It was largely because of the shortage in raw material that scenario -writers appreciated in value and esteem. They found themselves in -demand, treated with respect, better remunerated, and, in return, -expected to deliver a higher grade of commodity. One phase of this new -quest for material was the attempt to enlist known authors in the work. -But because a man had written a score of novels was no guarantee that he -could write a good scenario. Quite to the contrary, it was quickly -discovered that the surest guarantee of failure was a previous record of -success in novel-writing. - -But the moving pictures producers were not to be denied. Division of -labor was the thing. Allying themselves with powerful newspaper -organisations, or, in the case of “Hearts of Three,” the very reverse, -they had highly-skilled writers of scenario (who couldn’t write novels -to save themselves) make scenarios, which, in turn, were translated into -novels by novel-writers (who couldn’t, to save themselves, write -scenarios). - -Comes now Mr. Charles Goddard to one, Jack London, saying: “The time, -the place, and the men are met; the moving pictures producers, the -newspapers, and the capital, are ready: let us get together.” And we -got. Result: “Hearts of Three.” When I state that Mr. Goddard has been -responsible for “The Perils of Pauline,” “The Exploits of Elaine,” “The -Goddess,” the “Get Rich Quick Wallingford” series, etc., no question of -his skilled fitness can be raised. Also, the name of the present -heroine, Leoncia, is of his own devising. - -On the ranch, in the “Valley of the Moon,” he wrote his first several -episodes. But he wrote faster than I, and was done with his fifteen -episodes weeks ahead of me. Do not be misled by the word “episode.” The -first episode covers three thousand feet of film. The succeeding -fourteen episodes cover each two thousand feet of film. And each episode -contains about ninety scenes, which makes a total of some thirteen -hundred scenes. Nevertheless, we worked simultaneously at our respective -tasks. I could not build for what was going to happen next or a dozen -chapters away, because I did not know. Neither did Mr. Goddard know. The -inevitable result was that “Hearts of Three” may not be very vertebrate, -although it is certainly consecutive. - -Imagine my surprise, down here in Hawaii and toiling at the novelization -of the tenth episode, to receive by mail from Mr. Goddard in New York -the scenario of the fourteenth episode, and glancing therein, to find my -hero married to the wrong woman!—and with only one more episode in which -to get rid of the wrong woman and duly tie my hero up with the right and -only woman. For all of which please see last chapter of fifteenth -episode. Trust Mr. Goddard to show me how. - -For Mr. Goddard is the master of action and lord of speed. Action -doesn’t bother him at all. “Register,” he calmly says in a film -direction to the moving picture actor. Evidently the actor registers, -for Mr. Goddard goes right on with more action. “Register grief,” he -commands, or “sorrow,” or “anger,” or “melting sympathy,” or “homicidal -intent,” or “suicidal tendency.” That’s all. It has to be all, or how -else would he ever accomplish the whole thirteen hundred scenes? - -But imagine the poor devil of a me, who can’t utter the talismanic -“register” but who must describe, and at some length inevitably, these -moods and modes so airily created in passing by Mr. Goddard! Why, -Dickens thought nothing of consuming a thousand words or so in -describing and subtly characterizing the particular grief of a -particular person. But Mr. Goddard says, “Register,” and the slaves of -the camera obey. - -And action! I have written some novels of adventure in my time, but -never, in all of the many of them, have I perpetrated a totality of -action equal to what is contained in “Hearts of Three.” - -But I know, now, why moving pictures are popular. I know, now, why -Messrs. “Barnes of New York” and “Potter of Texas” sold by the millions -of copies. I know, now, why one stump speech of high-falutin’ is a more -efficient vote-getter than a finest and highest act or thought of -statesmanship. It has been an interesting experience, this novelization -by me of Mr. Goddard’s scenario; and it has been instructive. It has -given me high lights, foundation lines, cross-bearings, and illumination -on my anciently founded sociological generalizations. I have come, by -this adventure in writing, to understand the mass mind of the people -more thoroughly than I thought I had understood it before, and to -realize, more fully than ever, the graphic entertainment delivered by -the demagogue who wins the vote of the mass out of his mastery of its -mind. I should be surprised if this book does not have a large sale. -(“Register surprise,” Mr. Goddard would say; or “Register large sale”). - -If this adventure of “Hearts of Three” be collaboration, I am -transported by it. But alack!—I fear me Mr. Goddard must then be the one -collaborator in a million. We have never had a word, an argument, nor a -discussion. But then, I must be a jewel of a collaborator myself. Have I -not, without whisper or whimper of complaint, let him “register” through -fifteen episodes of scenario, through thirteen hundred scenes and -thirty-one thousand feet of film, through one hundred and eleven -thousand words of novelization? Just the same, having completed the -task, I wish I’d never written it—for the reason that I’d like to read -it myself to see if it reads along. I am curious to know. I am curious -to know. - - JACK LONDON. - - Waikiki, Hawaii, - _March 23, 1916_. - - - - - Back to Back Against the Mainmast - - - Do ye seek for fun and fortune? - Listen, rovers, now to me! - Look ye for them on the ocean: - Ye shall find them on the sea. - - - CHORUS: - - Roaring wind and deep blue water! - We’re the jolly devils who, - Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew. - - Bring the dagger, bring the pistols! - We will have our own to-day! - Let the cannon smash the bulwarks! - Let the cutlass clear the way! - - - CHORUS: - - Roaring wind and deep blue water! - We’re the jolly devils who, - Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew. - - Here’s to rum and here’s to plunder! - Here’s to all the gales that blow! - Let the seamen cry for mercy! - Let the blood of captains flow! - - - CHORUS: - - Roaring wind and deep blue water! - We’re the jolly devils who, - Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew. - - Here’s to ships that we have taken! - They have seen which men were best. - We have lifted maids and cargo, - And the sharks have had the rest. - - CHORUS: - - Roaring wind and deep blue water! - We’re the jolly devils who, - Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew. - - —_George Sterling._ - - - - - HEARTS OF THREE - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - -Events happened very rapidly with Francis Morgan that late spring -morning. If ever a man leaped across time into the raw, red drama and -tragedy of the primitive and the medieval melodrama of sentiment and -passion of the New World Latin, Francis Morgan was destined to be that -man, and Destiny was very immediate upon him. - -Yet he was lazily unaware that aught in the world was stirring, and was -scarcely astir himself. A late night at bridge had necessitated a late -rising. A late breakfast of fruit and cereal had occurred along the -route to the library—the austerely elegant room from which his father, -toward the last, had directed vast and manifold affairs. - -“Parker,” he said to the valet who had been his father’s before him, -“did you ever notice any signs of fat on R.H.M. in his last days?” - -“Oh, no, sir,” was the answer, uttered with all the due humility of the -trained servant, but accompanied by an involuntarily measuring glance -that scanned the young man’s splendid proportions. “Your father, sir, -never lost his leanness. His figure was always the same, -broad-shouldered, deep in the chest, big-boned, but lean, always lean, -sir, in the middle. When he was laid out, sir, and bathed, his body -would have shamed most of the young men about town. He always took good -care of himself; it was those exercises in bed, sir. Half an hour every -morning. Nothing prevented. He called it religion.” - -“Yes, he was a fine figure of a man,” the young man responded idly, -glancing to the stock-ticker and the several telephones his father had -installed. - -“He was that,” Parker agreed eagerly. “He was lean and aristocratic in -spite of his shoulders and bone and chest. And you’ve inherited it, sir, -only on more generous lines.” - -Young Francis Morgan, inheritor of many millions as well as brawn, -lolled back luxuriously in a huge leather chair, stretched his legs -after the manner of a full-vigored menagerie lion that is overspilling -with vigor, and glanced at a headline of the morning paper which -informed him of a fresh slide in the Culebra Cut at Panama. - -“If I didn’t know we Morgans didn’t run that way,” he yawned, “I’d be -fat already from this existence.... Eh, Parker?” - -The elderly valet, who had neglected prompt reply, startled at the -abrupt interrogative interruption of the pause. - -“Oh, yes, sir,” he said hastily. “I mean, no, sir. You are in the pink -of condition.” - -“Not on your life,” the young man assured him. “I may not be getting -fat, but I am certainly growing soft.... Eh, Parker?” - -“Yes, sir. No, sir; no, I mean no, sir. You’re just the same as when you -came home from college three years ago.” - -“And took up loafing as a vocation,” Francis laughed. “Parker!” - -Parker was alert attention. His master debated with himself ponderously, -as if the problem were of profound importance, rubbing the while the -bristly thatch of the small toothbrush moustache he had recently begun -to sport on his upper lip. - -“Parker, I’m going fishing.” - -“Yes, sir!” - -“I ordered some rods sent up. Please joint them and let me give them the -once over. The idea drifts through my mind that two weeks in the woods -is what I need. If I don’t, I’ll surely start laying on flesh and -disgrace the whole family tree. You remember Sir Henry?—the old original -Sir Henry, the buccaneer old swashbuckler?” - -“Yes, sir; I’ve read of him, sir.” - -Parker had paused in the doorway until such time as the ebbing of his -young master’s volubility would permit him to depart on the errand. - -“Nothing to be proud of, the old pirate.” - -“Oh, no, sir,” Parker protested. “He was Governor of Jamaica. He died -respected.” - -“It was a mercy he didn’t die hanged,” Francis laughed. “As it was, he’s -the only disgrace in the family that he founded. But what I was going to -say is that I’ve looked him up very carefully. He kept his figure and he -died lean in the middle, thank God. It’s a good inheritance he passed -down. We Morgans never found his treasure; but beyond rubies is the -lean-in-the-middle legacy he bequeathed us. It’s what is called a fixed -character in the breed—that’s what the profs taught me in the biology -course.” - -Parker faded out of the room in the ensuing silence, during which -Francis Morgan buried himself in the Panama column and learned that the -canal was not expected to be open for traffic for three weeks to come. - -A telephone buzzed, and, through the electric nerves of a consummate -civilization, Destiny made the first out-reach of its tentacles and -contacted with Francis Morgan in the library of the mansion his father -had builded on Riverside Drive. - -“But my dear Mrs. Carruthers,” was his protest into the transmitter. -“Whatever it is, it is a mere local flurry. Tampico Petroleum is all -right. It is not a gambling proposition. It is legitimate investment. -Stay with. Tie to it.... Some Minnesota farmer’s come to town and is -trying to buy a block or two because it looks as solid as it really -is.... What if it is up two points? Don’t sell. Tampico Petroleum is not -a lottery or a roulette proposition. It’s bona fide industry. I wish it -hadn’t been so almighty big or I’d have financed it all myself.... -Listen, please, it’s not a flyer. Our present contracts for tanks is -over a million. Our railroad and our three pipe-lines are costing more -than five millions. Why, we’ve a hundred millions in producing wells -right now, and our problem is to get it down country to the -oil-steamers. This is the sober investment time. A year from now, or two -years, and your shares will make government bonds look like something -the cat brought in....” - -“Yes, yes, please. Never mind how the market goes. Also, please, I -didn’t advise you to go in in the first place. I never advised a friend -to that. But now that they are in, stick. It’s as solid as the Bank of -England.... Yes, Dicky and I divided the spoils last night. Lovely -party, though Dicky’s got too much temperament for bridge.... Yes, bull -luck.... Ha! ha! My temperament? Ha! Ha!... Yes?... Tell Harry I’m off -and away for a couple of weeks.... Fishing, troutlets, you know, the -springtime and the streams, the rise of sap, the budding and the -blossoming and all the rest.... Yes, good-bye, and hold on to Tampico -Petroleum. If it goes down, after that Minnesota farmer’s bulled it, buy -a little more. I’m going to. It’s finding money.... Yes.... Yes, -surely.... It’s too good to dare sell on a flyer now, because it mayn’t -ever again go down.... Of course I know what I’m talking about. I’ve -just had eight hours’ sleep, and haven’t had a drink.... Yes, yes.... -Good-bye.” - -He pulled the ticker tape into the comfort of his chair and languidly -ran over it, noting with mildly growing interest the message it -conveyed. - -Parker returned with several slender rods, each a glittering gem of -artisanship and art. Francis was out of his chair, ticker flung aside -and forgotten as with the exultant joy of a boy he examined the toys -and, one after another, began trying them, switching them through the -air till they made shrill whip-like noises, moving them gently with -prudence and precision under the lofty ceiling as he made believe to -cast across the floor into some unseen pool of trout-lurking mystery. - -A telephone buzzed. Irritation was swift on his face. - -“For heaven’s sake answer it, Parker,” he commanded. “If it is some -silly stock-gambling female, tell her I’m dead, or drunk, or down with -typhoid, or getting married, or anything calamitous.” - -After a moment’s dialogue, conducted on Parker’s part, in the discreet -and modulated tones that befitted absolutely the cool, chaste, noble -dignity of the room, with a “One moment, sir,” into the transmitter, he -muffled the transmitter with his hand and said: - -“It’s Mr. Bascom, sir. He wants you.” - -“Tell Mr. Bascom to go to hell,” said Francis, simulating so long a -cast, that, had it been in verity a cast, and had it pursued the course -his fascinated gaze indicated, it would have gone through the window and -most likely startled the gardener outside kneeling over the rose bush he -was planting. - -“Mr. Bascom says it’s about the market, sir, and that he’d like to talk -with you only a moment,” Parker urged, but so delicately and subduedly -as to seem to be merely repeating an immaterial and unnecessary message. - -“All right.” Francis carefully leaned the rod against a table and went -to the ‘phone. - -“Hello,” he said into the telephone. “Yes, this is I, Morgan. Shoot, -What is it?” - -He listened for a minute, then interrupted irritably: “Sell—hell. -Nothing of the sort.... Of course, I’m glad to know. Even if it goes up -ten points, which it won’t, hold on to everything. It may be a -legitimate rise, and it mayn’t ever come down. It’s solid. It’s worth -far more than it’s listed. I know, if the public doesn’t. A year from -now it’ll list at two hundred ... that is, if Mexico can cut the -revolution stuff.... Whenever it drops you’ll have buying orders from -me.... Nonsense. Who wants control? It’s purely sporadic ... eh? I beg -your pardon. I mean it’s merely temporary. Now I’m going off fishing for -a fortnight. If it goes down five points, buy. Buy all that’s offered. -Say, when a fellow’s got a real bona fide property, being bulled is -almost as bad as having the bears after one ... yes.... Sure ... yes. -Good-bye.” - -And while Francis returned delightedly to his fishing-rods, Destiny, in -Thomas Regan’s down-town private office, was working overtime. Having -arranged with his various brokers to buy, and, through his divers -channels of secret publicity having let slip the cryptic tip that -something was wrong with Tampico Petroleum’s concessions from the -Mexican government, Thomas Regan studied a report of his own oil-expert -emissary who had spent two months on the spot spying out what Tampico -Petroleum really had in sight and prospect. - -A clerk brought in a card with the information that the visitor was -importunate and foreign. Regan listened, glanced at the card, and said: - -“Tell this Mister Senor Alvarez Torres of Ciodad de Colon that I can’t -see him.” - -Five minutes later the clerk was back, this time with a message -pencilled on the card. Regan grinned as he read it: - - “_Dear Mr. Regan_, - “_Honoured Sir_:— - - “_I have the honour to inform you that I have a tip on the location - of the treasure Sir Henry Morgan buried in old pirate days._ - - “_Alvarez Torres._” - -Regan shook his head, and the clerk was nearly out of the room when his -employer suddenly recalled him. - -“Show him in—at once.” - -In the interval of being alone, Regan chuckled to himself as he rolled -the new idea over in his mind. “The unlicked cub!” he muttered through -the smoke of the cigar he was lighting. “Thinks he can play the lion -part old R.H.M. played. A trimming is what he needs, and old Grayhead -Thomas R. will see that he gets it.” - -Senor Alvarez Torres’ English was as correct as his modish spring suit, -and though the bleached yellow of his skin advertised his Latin-American -origin, and though his black eyes were eloquent of the mixed lustres of -Spanish and Indian long compounded, nevertheless he was as thoroughly -New Yorkish as Thomas Regan could have wished. - -“By great effort, and years of research, I have finally won to the clue -to the buccaneer gold of Sir Henry Morgan,” he preambled. “Of course -it’s on the Mosquito Coast. I’ll tell you now that it’s not a thousand -miles from the Chiriqui Lagoon, and that Bocas del Toro, within reason, -may be described as the nearest town. I was born there—educated in -Paris, however—and I know the neighbourhood like a book. A small -schooner—the outlay is cheap, most very cheap—but the returns, the -reward—the treasure!” - -Senor Torres paused in eloquent inability to describe more definitely, -and Thomas Regan, hard man used to dealing with hard men, proceeded to -bore into him and his data like a cross-examining criminal lawyer. - -“Yes,” Senor Torres quickly admitted, “I am somewhat embarrassed—how -shall I say?—for immediate funds.” - -“You need the money,” the stock operator assured him brutally, and he -bowed pained acquiescence. - -Much more he admitted under the rapid-fire interrogation. It was true, -he had but recently left Bocas del Toro, but he hoped never again to go -back. And yet he would go back if possibly some arrangement.... - -But Regan shut him off with the abrupt way of the master-man dealing -with lesser fellow-creatures. He wrote a check, in the name of Alvarez -Torres, and when that gentleman glanced at it he read the figures of a -thousand dollars. - -“Now here’s the idea,” said Regan. “I put no belief whatsoever in your -story. But I have a young friend—my heart is bound up in the boy but he -is too much about town, the white lights and the white-lighted ladies, -and the rest—you understand?” And Senor Alvarez Torres bowed as one man -of the world to another. “Now, for the good of his health, as well as -his wealth and the saving of his soul, the best thing that could happen -to him is a trip after treasure, adventure, exercise, and ... you -readily understand, I am sure.” - -Again Alvarez Torres bowed. - -“You need the money,” Regan continued. “Strive to interest him. That -thousand is for your effort. Succeed in interesting him so that he -departs after old Morgan’s gold, and two thousand more is yours. So -thoroughly succeed in interesting him that he remains away three months, -two thousand more—six months, five thousand. Oh, believe me, I knew his -father. We were comrades, partners, I—I might say, almost brothers. I -would sacrifice any sum to win his son to manhood’s wholesome path. What -do you say? The thousand is yours to begin with. Well?” - -With trembling fingers Senor Alvarez Torres folded and unfolded the -check. - -“I ... I accept,” he stammered and faltered in his eagerness. “I ... I -... How shall I say?... I am yours to command.” - -Five minutes later, as he arose to go, fully instructed in the part he -was to play and with his story of Morgan’s treasure revised to -convincingness by the brass-tack business acumen of the stock-gambler, -he blurted out, almost facetiously, yet even more pathetically: - -“And the funniest thing about it, Mr. Regan, is that it is true. Your -advised changes in my narrative make it sound more true, but true it is -under it all. I need the money. You are most munificent, and I shall do -my best.... I ... I pride myself that I am an artist. But the real and -solemn truth is that the clue to Morgan’s buried loot is genuine. I have -had access to records inaccessible to the public, which is neither here -nor there, for the men of my own family—they are family records—have had -similar access, and have wasted their lives before me in the futile -search. Yet were they on the right clue—except that their wits made them -miss the spot by twenty miles. It was there in the records. They missed -it, because it was, I think, a deliberate trick, a conundrum, a puzzle, -a disguisement, a maze, which I, and I alone, have penetrated and -solved. The early navigators all played such tricks on the charts they -drew. My Spanish race so hid the Hawaiian Islands by five degrees of -longitude.” - -All of which was in turn Greek to Thomas Regan, who smiled his -acceptance of listening and with the same smile conveyed his busy -business-man’s tolerant unbelief. - -Scarcely was Senor Torres gone, when Francis Morgan was shown in. - -“Just thought I’d drop around for a bit of counsel,” he said, greetings -over. “And to whom but you should I apply, who so closely played the -game with my father? You and he were partners, I understand, on some of -the biggest deals. He always told me to trust your judgment. And, well, -here I am, and I want to go fishing. What’s up with Tampico Petroleum?” - -“What _is_ up?” Regan countered, with fine simulation of ignorance of -the very thing of moment he was responsible for precipitating. “Tampico -Petroleum?” - -Francis nodded, dropped into a chair, and lighted a cigarette, while -Regan consulted the ticker. - -“Tampico Petroleum is up—two points—you should worry,” he opined. - -“That’s what I say,” Francis concurred. “I should worry. But just the -same, do you think some bunch, onto the inside value of it—and it’s -big—I speak under the rose, you know, I mean in absolute confidence?” -Regan nodded. “It is big. It is right. It is the real thing. It is -legitimate. Now this activity—would you think that somebody, or some -bunch, is trying to get control?” - -His father’s associate, with the reverend gray of hair thatching his -roof of crooked brain, shook the thatch. - -“Why,” he amplified, “it may be just a flurry, or it may be a hunch on -the stock public that it’s really good. What do you say?” - -“Of course it’s good,” was Francis’ warm response. “I’ve got reports, -Regan, so good they’d make your hair stand up. As I tell all my friends, -this is the real legitimate. It’s a damned shame I had to let the public -in on it. It was so big, I just had to. Even all the money my father -left me, couldn’t swing it—I mean, free money, not the stuff tied -up—money to work with.” - -“Are you short?” the older man queried. - -“Oh, I’ve got a tidy bit to operate with,” was the airy reply of youth. - -“You mean...?” - -“Sure. Just that. If she drops, I’ll buy. It’s finding money.” - -“Just about how far would you buy?” was the next searching -interrogation, masked by an expression of mingled good humor and -approbation. - -“All I’ve got,” came Francis Morgan’s prompt answer. “I tell you, Regan, -it’s immense.” - -“I haven’t looked into it to amount to anything, Francis; but I will say -from the little I know that it listens good.” - -“Listens! I tell you, Regan, it’s the Simon-pure, straight legitimate, -and it’s a shame to have it listed at all. I don’t have to wreck anybody -or anything to pull it across. The world will be better for my shooting -into it I am afraid to say how many hundreds of millions of barrels of -real oil——say, I’ve got one well alone, in the Huasteca field, that’s -gushed 27,000 barrels a day for seven months. And it’s still doing it. -That’s the drop in the bucket we’ve got piped to market now. And it’s -twenty-two gravity, and carries less than two-tenths of one per cent. of -sediment. And there’s one gusher—sixty miles of pipe to build to it, and -pinched down to the limit of safety, that’s pouring out all over the -landscape just about seventy thousand barrels a day.—Of course, all in -confidence, you know. We’re doing nicely, and I don’t want Tampico -Petroleum to skyrocket.” - -“Don’t you worry about that, my lad. You’ve got to get your oil piped, -and the Mexican revolution straightened out before ever Tampico -Petroleum soars. You go fishing and forget it.” Regan paused, with -finely simulated sudden recollection, and picked up Alvarez Torres’ card -with the pencilled note. “Look, who’s just been to see me.” Apparently -struck with an idea, Regan retained the card a moment. “Why go fishing -for mere trout? After all, it’s only recreation. Here’s a thing to go -fishing after that there’s real recreation in, full-size man’s -recreation, and not the Persian-palace recreation of an Adirondack camp, -with ice and servants and electric push-buttons. Your father always was -more than a mite proud of that old family pirate. He claimed to look -like him, and you certainly look like your dad.” - -“Sir Henry,” Francis smiled, reaching for the card. “So am I a mite -proud of the old scoundrel.” - -He looked up questioningly from the reading of the card. - -“He’s a plausible cuss,” Regan explained. “Claims to have been born -right down there on the Mosquito Coast, and to have got the tip from -private papers in his family. Not that I believe a word of it. I haven’t -time or interest to get started believing in stuff outside my own -field.” - -“Just the same, Sir Henry died practically a poor man,” Francis -asserted, the lines of the Morgan stubbornness knitting themselves for a -flash on his brows. “And they never did find any of his buried -treasure.” - -“Good fishing,” Regan girded good-humoredly. - -“I’d like to meet this Alvarez Torres just the same,” the young man -responded. - -“Fool’s gold,” Regan continued. “Though I must admit that the cuss is -most exasperatingly plausible. Why, if I were younger—but oh, the devil, -my work’s cut out for me here.” - -“Do you know where I can find him?” Francis was asking the next moment, -all unwittingly putting his neck into the net of tentacles that Destiny, -in the visible incarnation of Thomas Regan, was casting out to snare -him. - - * * * * * - -The next morning the meeting took place in Regan’s office. Senor Alvarez -Torres startled and controlled himself at first sight of Francis’ face. -This was not missed by Regan, who grinningly demanded: - -“Looks like the old pirate himself, eh?” - -“Yes, the resemblance is most striking,” Torres lied, or half-lied, for -he did recognize the resemblance to the portraits he had seen of Sir -Henry Morgan; although at the same time under his eyelids he saw the -vision of another and living man who, no less than Francis and Sir -Henry, looked as much like both of them as either looked like the other. - -Francis was youth that was not to be denied. Modern maps and ancient -charts were pored over, as well as old documents, handwritten in faded -ink on time-yellowed paper, and at the end of half an hour he announced -that the next fish he caught would be on either the Bull or the Calf—the -two islets off the Lagoon of Chiriqui, on one or the other of which -Torres averred the treasure lay. - -“I’ll catch to-night’s train for New Orleans,” Francis announced. “That -will just make connection with one of the United Fruit Company’s boats -for Colon—oh, I had it all looked up before I slept last night.” - -“But don’t charter a schooner at Colon,” Torres advised. “Take the -overland trip by horseback to Belen. There’s the place to charter, with -unsophisticated native sailors and everything else unsophisticated.” - -“Listens good!” Francis agreed. “I always wanted to see that country -down there. You’ll be ready to catch to-night’s train, Senor Torres?... -Of course, you understand, under the circumstances, I’ll be the -treasurer and foot the expenses.” - -But at a privy glance from Regan, Alvarez Torres lied with swift -efficientness. - -“I must join you later, I regret, Mr. Morgan. Some little business that -presses—how shall I say?—an insignificant little lawsuit that must be -settled first. Not that the sum at issue is important. But it is a -family matter, and therefore gravely important. We Torres have our -pride, which is a silly thing, I acknowledge, in this country, but which -with us is very serious.” - -“He can join afterward, and straighten you out if you’ve missed the -scent,” Regan assured Francis. “And, before it slips your mind, it might -be just as well to arrange with Senor Torres some division of the loot -... if you ever find it.” - -“What would you say?” Francis asked. - -“Equal division, fifty-fifty,” Regan answered, magnificently arranging -the apportionment between the two men of something he was certain did -not exist. - -“And you will follow after as soon as you can?” Francis asked the Latin -American. “Regan, take hold of his little law affair yourself and -expedite it, won’t you?” - -“Sure, boy,” was the answer. “And, if it’s needed, shall I advance cash -to Senor Alvarez?” - -“Fine!” Francis shook their hands in both of his. “It will save me -bother. And I’ve got to rush to pack and break engagements and catch -that train. So long, Regan. Good-bye, Senor Torres, until we meet -somewhere around Bocas del Toro, or in a little hole in the ground on -the Bull or the Calf—you say you think it’s the Calf? Well, until -then—adios!” - -And Senor Alvarez Torres remained with Regan some time longer, receiving -explicit instructions for the part he was to play, beginning with -retardation and delay of Francis’ expedition, and culminating in similar -retardation and delay always to be continued. - -“In short,” Regan concluded, “I don’t almost care if he never comes -back—if you can keep him down there for the good of his health that long -and longer.” - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -Money, like youth, will not be denied, and Francis Morgan, who was the -man-legal and nature-certain representative of both youth and money, -found himself one afternoon, three weeks after he had said good-bye to -Regan, becalmed close under the land on board his schooner, the -_Angelique_. The water was glassy, the smooth roll scarcely perceptible, -and, in sheer ennui and overplus of energy that likewise declined to be -denied, he asked the captain, a breed, half Jamaica negro and half -Indian, to order a small skiff over the side. - -“Looks like I might shoot a parrot or a monkey or something,” he -explained, searching the jungle-clad shore, half a mile away, through a -twelve-power Zeiss glass. - -“Most problematic, sir, that you are bitten by a _labarri_, which is -deadly viper in these parts,” grinned the breed skipper and owner of the -_Angelique_, who, from his Jamaica father had inherited the gift of -tongues. - -But Francis was not to be deterred; for at the moment, through his -glass, he had picked out, first, in the middle ground, a white hacienda, -and second, on the beach, a white-clad woman’s form, and further, had -seen that she was scrutinising him and the schooner through a pair of -binoculars. - -“Put the skiff over, skipper,” he ordered. “Who lives around here?—white -folks?” - -“The Enrico Solano family, sir,” was the answer. “My word, they are -important gentlefolk, old Spanish, and they own the entire general -landscape from the sea to the Cordilleras and half of the Chiriqui -Lagoon as well. They are very poor, most powerful rich ... in -landscape—and they are prideful and fiery as cayenne pepper.” - -As Francis, in the tiny skiff, rowed shoreward, the skipper’s alert eye -noted that he had neglected to take along either rifle or shotgun for -the contemplated parrot or monkey. And, next, the skipper’s eye picked -up the white-clad woman’s figure against the dark edge of the jungle. - -Straight to the white beach of coral sand Francis rowed, not trusting -himself to look over his shoulder to see if the woman remained or had -vanished. In his mind was merely a young man’s healthy idea of -encountering a bucolic young lady, or a half-wild white woman for that -matter, or at the best a very provincial one, with whom he could fool -and fun away a few minutes of the calm that fettered the _Angelique_ to -immobility. When the skiff grounded, he stepped out, and with one sturdy -arm lifted its nose high enough up the sand to fasten it by its own -weight. Then he turned around. The beach to the jungle was bare. He -strode forward confidently. Any traveller, on so strange a shore, had a -right to seek inhabitants for information on his way—was the idea he was -acting out. - -And he, who had anticipated a few moments of diversion merely, was -diverted beyond his fondest expectations. Like a jack-in-the-box, the -woman, who, in the flash of vision vouchsafed him demonstrated that she -was a girl-woman, ripely mature and yet mostly girl, sprang out of the -green wall of jungle and with both hands seized his arm. The hearty -weight of grip in the seizure surprised him. He fumbled his hat off with -his free hand and bowed to the strange woman with the imperturbableness -of a Morgan, New York trained and disciplined to be surprised at -nothing, and received another surprise, or several surprises compounded. -Not alone was it her semi-brunette beauty that impacted upon him with -the weight of a blow, but it was her gaze, driven into him, that was all -of sternness. Almost it seemed to him that he must know her. Strangers, -in his experience, never so looked at one another. - -The double grip on his arm became a draw, as she muttered tensely: - -“Quick! Follow me!” - -A moment he resisted. She shook him in the fervor of her desire, and -strove to pull him toward her and after her. With the feeling that it -was some unusual game, such as one might meet up with on the coast of -Central America, he yielded, smilingly, scarcely knowing whether he -followed voluntarily or was being dragged into the jungle by her -impetuosity. - -“Do as I do,” she shot back at him over her shoulder, by this time -leading him with one hand of hers in his. - -He smiled and obeyed, crouching when she crouched, doubling over when -she doubled, while memories of John Smith and Pocahontas glimmered up in -his fancy. - -Abruptly she checked him and sat down, her hand directing him to sit -beside her ere she released him, and pressed it to her heart while she -panted: - -“Thank God! Oh, merciful Virgin!” - -In imitation, such having been her will of him, and such seeming to be -the cue of the game, he smilingly pressed his own hand to his heart, -although he called neither on God nor the Virgin. - -“Won’t you ever be serious?” she flashed at him, noting his action. - -And Francis was immediately and profoundly, as well as naturally, -serious. - -“My dear lady...” he began. - -But an abrupt gesture checked him; and, with growing wonder, he watched -her bend and listen, and heard the movement of bodies padding down some -runway several yards away. - -With a soft warm palm pressed commandingly to his to be silent, she left -him with the abruptness that he had already come to consider as -customary with her, and slipped away down the runway. Almost he whistled -with astonishment. He might have whistled it, had he not heard her -voice, not distant, in Spanish, sharply interrogate men whose Spanish -voices, half-humbly, half-insistently and half-rebelliously, answered -her. - -He heard them move on, still talking, and, after five minutes of dead -silence, heard her call for him peremptorily to come out. - -“Gee! I wonder what Regan would do under such circumstances!” he smiled -to himself as he obeyed. - -He followed her, no longer hand in hand, through the jungle to the -beach. When she paused, he came beside her and faced her, still under -the impress of the fantasy which possessed him that it was a game. - -“Tag!” he laughed, touching her on the shoulder. “Tag!” he reiterated. -“You’re It!” - -The anger of her blazing dark eyes scorched him. - -“You fool!” she cried, lifting her finger with what he considered undue -intimacy to his toothbrush moustache. “As if that could disguise you!” - -“But my dear lady...” he began to protest his certain unacquaintance -with her. - -Her retort, which broke off his speech, was as unreal and bizarre as -everything else which had gone before. So quick was it, that he failed -to see whence the tiny silver revolver had been drawn, the muzzle of -which was not presented merely toward his abdomen, but pressed closely -against it. - -“My dear lady...” he tried again. - -“I won’t talk with you,” she shut him off. “Go back to your schooner, -and go away....” He guessed the inaudible sob of the pause, ere she -concluded, “Forever.” - -This time his mouth opened to speech that was aborted on his lips by the -stiff thrust of the muzzle of the weapon into his abdomen. - -“If you ever come back—the Madonna forgive me—I shall shoot myself.” - -“Guess I’d better go, then,” he uttered airily, as he turned to the -skiff, toward which he walked in stately embarrassment, half-filled with -laughter for himself and for the ridiculous and incomprehensible figure -he was cutting. - -Endeavoring to retain a last shred of dignity, he took no notice that -she had followed him. As he lifted the skiff’s nose from the sand, he -was aware that a faint wind was rustling the palm fronds. A long breeze -was darkening the water close at hand, while, far out across the -mirrored water the outlying keys of Chiriqui Lagoon shimmered like a -mirage above the dark-crisping water. - -A sob compelled him to desist from stepping into the skiff, and to turn -his head. The strange young woman, revolver dropped to her side, was -crying. His step back to her was instant, and the touch of his hand on -her arm was sympathetic and inquiring. She shuddered at his touch, drew -away from him, and gazed at him reproachfully through her tears. With a -shrug of shoulders to her many moods and of surrender to the -incomprehensibleness of the situation, he was about to turn to the boat, -when she stopped him. - -“At least you...” she began, then faltered and swallowed, “you might -kiss me good-bye.” - -She advanced impulsively, with outstretched arms, the revolver dangling -incongruously from her right hand. Francis hesitated a puzzled moment, -then gathered her in to receive an astounding passionate kiss on his -lips ere she dropped her head on his shoulder in a breakdown of tears. -Despite his amazement he was aware of the revolver pressing flat-wise -against his back between the shoulders. She lifted her tear-wet face and -kissed him again and again, and he wondered to himself if he were a cad -for meeting her kisses with almost equal and fully as mysterious -impulsiveness. - -With a feeling that he did not in the least care how long the tender -episode might last, he was startled by her quick drawing away from him, -as anger and contempt blazed back in her face, and as she menacingly -directed him with the revolver to get into the boat. - -He shrugged his shoulders as if to say that he could not say no to a -lovely lady, and obeyed, sitting to the oars and facing her as he began -rowing away. - -“The Virgin save me from my wayward heart,” she cried, with her free -hand tearing a locket from her bosom, and, in a shower of golden beads, -flinging the ornament into the waterway midway between them. - -From the edge of the jungle he saw three men, armed with rifles, run -toward her where she had sunk down in the sand. In the midst of lifting -her up, they caught sight of Francis, who had begun rowing a strong -stroke. Over his shoulder he glimpsed the _Angelique_, close hauled and -slightly heeling, cutting through the water toward him. The next moment, -one of the trio on the beach, a bearded elderly man, was directing the -girl’s binoculars on him. And the moment after, dropping the glasses, he -was taking aim with his rifle. - -The bullet spat on the water within a yard of the skiff’s side, and -Francis saw the girl spring to her feet, knock up the rifle with her -arm, and spoil the second shot. Next, pulling lustily, he saw the men -separate from her to sight their rifles, and saw her threatening them -with the revolver into lowering their weapons. - -The _Angelique_, thrown up into the wind to stop way, foamed alongside, -and with an agile leap Francis was aboard, while already, the skipper -putting the wheel up, the schooner was paying off and filling. With -boyish zest, Francis wafted a kiss of farewell to the girl, who was -staring toward him, and saw her collapse on the shoulders of the bearded -elderly man. - -“Cayenne pepper, eh—those damned, horrible, crazy-proud Solanos,” the -breed skipper flashed at Francis with white teeth of laughter. - -“Just bugs—clean crazy, nobody at home,” Francis laughed back, as he -sprang to the rail to waft further kisses to the strange damsel. - - * * * * * - -Before the land wind, the _Angelique_ made the outer rim of Chiriqui -Lagoon and the Bull and Calf, some fifty miles farther along on the rim, -by midnight, when the skipper hove to to wait for daylight. After -breakfast, rowed by a Jamaica negro sailor in the skiff, Francis landed -to reconnoiter on the Bull, which was the larger island and which the -skipper had told him he might find occupied at that season of the year -by turtle-catching Indians from the mainland. - -And Francis very immediately found that he had traversed not merely -thirty degrees of latitude from New York but thirty hundred years, or -centuries for that matter, from the last word of civilisation to almost -the first word of the primeval. Naked, except for breech-clouts of -gunny-sacking, armed with cruelly heavy hacking blades of machetes, the -turtle-catchers were swift in proving themselves arrant beggars and -dangerous man-killers. The Bull belonged to them, they told him through -the medium of his Jamaican sailor’s interpreting; but the Calf, which -used to belong to them for the turtle season now was possessed by a -madly impossible Gringo, whose reckless, dominating ways had won from -them the respect of fear for a two-legged human creature who was more -fearful than themselves. - -While Francis, for a silver dollar, dispatched one of them with a -message to the mysterious Gringo that he desired to call on him, the -rest of them clustered about Francis’ skiff, whining for money, -glowering upon him, and even impudently stealing his pipe, yet warm from -his lips, which he had laid beside him in the sternsheets. Promptly he -had laid a blow on the ear of the thief, and the next thief who seized -it, and recovered the pipe. Machetes out and sun-glistening their -clean-slicing menace, Francis covered and controlled the gang with an -automatic pistol; and, while they drew apart in a group and whispered -ominously, he made the discovery that his lone sailor-interpreter was a -weak brother and received his returned messenger. - -The negro went over to the turtle-catchers and talked with a -friendliness and subservience, the tones of which Francis did not like. -The messenger handed him his note, across which was scrawled in pencil: - -“Vamos.” - -“Guess I’ll have to go across myself,” Francis told the negro whom he -had beckoned back to him. - -“Better be very careful and utmostly cautious, sir,” the negro warned -him. “These animals without reason are very problematically likely to -act most unreasonably, sir.” - -“Get into the boat and row me over,” Francis commanded shortly. - -“No, sir, I regret much to say, sir,” was the black sailor’s answer. “I -signed on, sir, as a sailor to Captain Trefethen, but I didn’t sign on -for no suicide, and I can’t see my way to rowin’ you over, sir, to -certain death. Best thing we can do is to get out of this hot place -that’s certainly and without peradventure of a doubt goin’ to get hotter -for us if we remain, sir.” - -In huge disgust and scorn Francis pocketed his automatic, turned his -back on the sacking-clad savages, and walked away through the palms. -Where a great boulder of coral rock had been upthrust by some ancient -restlessness of the earth, he came down to the beach. On the shore of -the Calf, across the narrow channel, he made out a dinghy drawn up. -Drawn up on his own side was a crank-looking and manifestly leaky dugout -canoe. As he tilted the water out of it, he noticed that the -turtle-catchers had followed and were peering at him from the edge of -the coconuts, though his weak-hearted sailor was not in sight. - -To paddle across the channel was a matter of moments, but scarcely was -he on the beach of the Calf when further inhospitality greeted him on -the part of a tall, barefooted young man, who stepped from behind a -palm, automatic pistol in hand, and shouted: - -“Vamos! Get out! Scut!” - -“Ye gods and little fishes!” Francis grinned, half-humorously, -half-seriously. “A fellow can’t move in these parts without having a gun -shoved in his face. And everybody says get out pronto.” - -“Nobody invited you,” the stranger retorted. “You’re intruding. Get off -my island. I’ll give you half a minute.” - -“I’m getting sore, friend,” Francis assured him truthfully, at the same -time, out of the corner of his eye, measuring the distance to the -nearest palm-trunk. “Everybody I meet around here is crazy and -discourteous, and peevishly anxious to be rid of my presence, and -they’ve just got me feeling that way myself. Besides, just because you -tell me it’s your island is no proof——” - -The swift rush he made to the shelter of the palm left his sentence -unfinished. His arrival behind the trunk was simultaneous with the -arrival of a bullet that thudded into the other side of it. - -“Now, just for that!” he called out, as he centered a bullet into the -trunk of the other man’s palm. - -The next few minutes they blazed away, or waited for calculated shots, -and when Francis’ eighth and last had been fired, he was unpleasantly -certain that he had counted only seven shots for the stranger. He -cautiously exposed part of his sun-helmet, held in his hand, and had it -perforated. - -“What gun are you using?” he asked with cool politeness. - -“Colt’s,” came the answer. - -Francis stepped boldly into the open, saying: “Then you’re all out. I -counted ‘em. Eight. Now we can talk.” - -The stranger stepped out, and Francis could not help admiring the fine -figure of him, despite the fact that a dirty pair of canvas pants, a -cotton undershirt, and a floppy sombrero constituted his garmenting. -Further, it seemed he had previously known him, though it did not enter -his mind that he was looking at a replica of himself. - -“Talk!” the stranger sneered, throwing down his pistol and drawing a -knife. “Now we’ll just cut off your ears, and maybe scalp you.” - -“Gee! You’re sweet-natured and gentle animals in this neck of the -woods,” Francis retorted, his anger and disgust increasing. He drew his -own hunting knife, brand new from the shop and shining. “Say, let’s -wrestle, and cut out this ten-twenty-and-thirty knife stuff.” - -“I want your ears,” the stranger answered pleasantly, as he slowly -advanced. - -“Sure. First down, and the man who wins the fall gets the other fellow’s -ears.” - -“Agreed.” The young man in the canvas trousers sheathed his knife. - -“Too bad there isn’t a moving picture camera to film this,” Francis -girded, sheathing his own knife. “I’m sore as a boil. I feel like a heap -bad Injun. Watch out! I’m coming in a rush! Anyway and everyway for the -first fall!” - -Action and word went together, and his glorious rush ended -ignominiously, for the stronger, apparently braced for the shock, -yielded the instant their bodies met and fell over on his back, at the -same time planting his foot in Francis’ abdomen and, from the back -purchase on the ground, transforming Francis’ rush into a wild forward -somersault. - -The fall on the sand knocked most of Francis’ breath out of him, and the -flying body of his foe, impacting on him, managed to do for what little -breath was left him. As he lay speechless on his back, he observed the -man on top of him gazing down at him with sudden curiosity. - -“What d’ you want to wear a mustache for?” the stranger muttered. - -“Go on and cut ‘em off,” Francis gasped, with the first of his returning -breath. “The ears are yours, but the mustache is mine. It is not in the -bond. Besides, that fall was straight jiu jiutsu.” - -“You said ‘anyway and everyway for the first fall,’” the other quoted -laughingly. “As for your ears, keep them. I never intended to cut them -off, and now that I look at them closely the less I want them. Get up -and get out of here. I’ve licked you. _Vamos!_ And don’t come sneaking -around here again! Git! Scut!” - -In greater disgust than ever, to which was added the humiliation of -defeat, Francis turned down to the beach toward his canoe. - -“Say, Little Stranger, do you mind leaving your card?” the victor called -after him. - -“Visiting cards and cut-throating don’t go together,” Francis shot back -across his shoulder, as he squatted in the canoe and dipped his paddle. -“My name’s Morgan.” - -Surprise and startlement were the stranger’s portion, as he opened his -mouth to speak, then changed his mind and murmured to himself, “Same -stock—no wonder we look alike.” - -Still in the throes of disgust, Francis regained the shore of the Bull, -sat down on the edge of the dugout, filled and lighted his pipe, and -gloomily meditated. Crazy, everybody, was the run of his thought. Nobody -acts with reason. “I’d like to see old Regan try to do business with -these people. They’d get his ears.” - -Could he have seen, at that moment, the young man of the canvas pants -and of familiar appearance, he would have been certain that naught but -lunacy resided in Latin America; for the young man in question, inside a -grass-thatched hut in the heart of his island, grinning to himself as he -uttered aloud, “I guess I put the fear of God into that particular -member of the Morgan family,” had just begun to stare at a photographic -reproduction of an oil painting on the wall of the original Sir Henry -Morgan. - -“Well, Old Pirate,” he continued grinning, “two of your latest -descendants came pretty close to getting each other with automatics that -would make your antediluvian horse-pistols look like thirty cents.” - -He bent to a battered and worm-eaten sea-chest, lifted the lid that was -monogramed with an “M,” and again addressed the portrait: - -“Well, old pirate Welshman of an ancestor, all you’ve left me is the old -duds and a face that looks like yours. And I guess, if I was really -fired up, I could play your Port-au-Prince stunt about as well as you -played it yourself.” - -A moment later, beginning to dress himself in the age-worn and -moth-eaten garments of the chest, he added: “Well, here’s the old duds -on my back. Come, Mister Ancestor, down out of your frame, and dare to -tell me a point of looks in which we differ.” - -Clad in Sir Henry Morgan’s ancient habiliments, a cutlass strapped on -around the middle and two flintlock pistols of huge and ponderous design -thrust into his waist-scarf, the resemblance between the living man and -the pictured semblance of the old buccaneer who had been long since -resolved to dust, was striking. - - “Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew....” - -As the young man, picking the strings of a guitar, began to sing the old -buccaneer rouse, it seemed to him that the picture of his forebear faded -into another picture and that he saw: - -The old forebear himself, back to a mainmast, cutlass out and flashing, -facing a semi-circle of fantastically clad sailor cutthroats, while -behind him, on the opposite side of the mast, another similarly garbed -and accoutred man, with cutlass flashing, faced the other semi-circle of -cutthroats that completed the ring about the mast. - -The vivid vision of his fancy was broken by the breaking of a -guitar-string which he had thrummed too passionately. And in the sharp -pause of silence, it seemed that a fresh vision of old Sir Henry came to -him, down out of the frame and beside him, real in all seeming, plucking -at his sleeve to lead him out of the hut and whispering a ghostly -repetition of: - - “Back to back against the mainmast - Held at bay the entire crew.” - -The young man obeyed his shadowy guide, or some prompting of his own -profound of intuition, and went out the door and down to the beach, -where, gazing across the narrow channel, on the beach of the Bull, he -saw his late antagonist, backed up against the great boulder of coral -rock, standing off an attack of sack-clouted, machete-wielding Indians -with wide sweeping strokes of a driftwood timber. - - * * * * * - -And Francis, in extremity, swaying dizzily from the blow of a rock on -his head, saw the apparition, that almost convinced him he was already -dead and in the realm of the shades, of Sir Henry Morgan himself, -cutlass in hand, rushing up the beach to his rescue. Further, the -apparition, brandishing the cutlass and laying out Indians right and -left, was bellowing: - - “Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew.” - -As Francis’ knees gave under him and he slowly crumpled and sank down, -he saw the Indians scatter and flee before the onslaught of the weird -pirate figure and heard their cries of: - -“Heaven help us!” “The Virgin protect us!” “It’s the ghost of old -Morgan!” - - * * * * * - -Francis next opened his eyes inside the grass hut in the midmost center -of the Calf. First, in the glimmering of sight of returning -consciousness, he beheld the pictured lineaments of Sir Henry Morgan -staring down at him from the wall. Next, it was a younger edition of the -same, in three dimensions of living, moving flesh, who thrust a mug of -brandy to his lips and bade him drink. Francis was on his feet ere he -touched lips to the mug; and both he and the stranger man, moved by a -common impulse, looked squarely into each other’s eyes, glanced at the -picture on the wall and touched mugs in a salute to the picture and to -each other ere they drank. - -“You told me you were a Morgan,” the stranger said. “I am a Morgan. That -man on the wall fathered my breed. Your breed?” - -“The old buccaneer’s,” Francis returned. “My first name is Francis. And -yours?” - -“Henry—straight from the original. We must be remote cousins or -something or other. I’m after the foxy old niggardly old Welshman’s -loot.” - -“So’m I,” said Francis, extending his hand. “But to hell with sharing.” - -“The old blood talks in you,” Henry smiled approbation. “For him to have -who finds. I’ve turned most of this island upside down in the last six -months, and all I’ve found are these old duds. I’m with you to beat you -if I can, but to put my back against the mainmast with you any time the -needed call goes out.” - -“That song’s a wonder,” Francis urged. “I want to learn it. Lift the -stave again.” - -And together, clanking their mugs, they sang: - - “Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew....” - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -But a splitting headache put a stop to Francis’ singing and made him -glad to be swung in a cool hammock by Henry, who rowed off to the -_Angelique_ with orders from his visitor to the skipper to stay at -anchor but not to permit any of his sailors to land on the Calf. Not -until late in the morning of the following day, after hours of heavy -sleep, did Francis get on his feet and announce that his head was clear -again. - -“I know what it is—got bucked off a horse once,” his strange relative -sympathised, as he poured him a huge cup of fragrant black coffee. -“Drink that down. It will make a new man of you. Can’t offer you much -for breakfast except bacon, sea biscuit, and some scrambled turtle eggs. -They’re fresh. I guarantee that, for I dug them out this morning while -you slept.” - -“That coffee is a meal in itself,” Francis praised, meanwhile studying -his kinsman and ever and anon glancing at the portrait of their -relative. - -“You’re just like him, and in more than mere looks,” Henry laughed, -catching him in his scrutiny. “When you refused to share yesterday, it -was old Sir Henry to the life. He had a deep-seated antipathy against -sharing, even with his own crews. It’s what caused most of his troubles. -And he’s certainly never shared a penny of his treasure with any of his -descendants. Now I’m different. Not only will I share the Calf with you; -but I’ll present you with my half as well, lock, stock, and barrel, this -grass hut, all these nice furnishings, tenements, hereditaments, and -everything, and what’s left of the turtle eggs. When do you want to move -in?” - -“You mean...?” Francis asked. - -“Just that. There’s nothing here. I’ve just about dug the island upside -down and all I found was the chest there full of old clothes.” - -“It must have encouraged you.” - -“Mightily. I thought I had a hammerlock on it. At any rate, it showed -I’m on the right track.” - -“What’s the matter with trying the Bull?” Francis queried. - -“That’s my idea right now,” was the answer, “though I’ve got another -clue for over on the mainland. Those old-timers had a way of noting down -their latitude and longitude whole degrees out of the way.” - -“Ten North and Ninety East on the chart might mean Twelve North and -Ninety-two East,” Francis concurred. “Then again it might mean Eight -North and Eighty-eight East. They carried the correction in their heads, -and if they died unexpectedly, which was their custom, it seems, the -secret died with them.” - -“I’ve half a notion to go over to the Bull and chase those -turtle-catchers back to the mainland,” Henry went on. “And then again -I’d almost like to tackle the mainland clue first. I suppose you’ve got -a stock of clues, too?” - -“Sure thing,” Francis nodded. “But say, I’d like to take back what I -said about not sharing.” - -“Say the word,” the other encouraged. - -“Then I do say it.” - -Their hands extended and gripped in ratification. - -“Morgan and Morgan strictly limited,” chortled Francis. - -“Assets, the whole Caribbean Sea, the Spanish Main, most of Central -America, one chest full of perfectly no good old clothes, and a lot of -holes in the ground,” Henry joined in the other’s humor. “Liabilities, -snake-bite, thieving Indians, malaria, yellow fever——” - -“And pretty girls with a habit of kissing total strangers one moment, -and of sticking up said total strangers with shiny silver revolvers the -next moment,” Francis cut in. “Let me tell you about it. Day before -yesterday, I rowed ashore over on the mainland. The moment I landed, the -prettiest girl in the world pounced out upon me and dragged me away into -the jungle. Thought she was going to eat me or marry me. I didn’t know -which. And before I could find out, what’s the pretty damsel do but pass -uncomplimentary remarks on my mustache and chase me back to the boat -with a revolver. Told me to beat it and never come back, or words to -that effect.” - -“Whereabouts on the mainland was this?” Henry demanded, with a tenseness -which Francis, chuckling his reminiscence of the misadventure, did not -notice. - -“Down toward the other end of Chiriqui Lagoon,” he replied. “It was the -stamping ground of the Solano family, I learned; and they are a red -peppery family, as I found out. But I haven’t told you all. Listen. -First she dragged me into the vegetation and insulted my mustache; next -she chased me to the boat with a drawn revolver; and then she wanted to -know why I didn’t kiss her. Can you beat that?” - -“And did you?” Henry demanded, his hand unconsciously clinching by his -side. - -“What could a poor stranger in a strange land do? It was some armful of -pretty girl——” - -The next fraction of a second Francis had sprung to his feet and blocked -before his jaw a crushing blow of Henry’s fist. - -“I ... I beg your pardon,” Henry mumbled, and slumped down on the -ancient sea chest. “I’m a fool, I know, but I’ll be hanged if I can -stand for——” - -“There you go again,” Francis interrupted resentfully. “As crazy as -everybody else in this crazy country. One moment you bandage up my -cracked head, and the next moment you want to knock that same head clean -off of me. As bad as the girl taking turns at kissing me and shoving a -gun into my midrif.” - -“That’s right, fire away, I deserve it,” Henry admitted ruefully, but -involuntarily began to fire up as he continued with: “Confound you, that -was Leoncia.” - -“What if it was Leoncia? Or Mercedes? Or Dolores? Can’t a fellow kiss a -pretty girl at a revolver’s point without having his head knocked off by -the next ruffian he meets in dirty canvas pants on a notorious sand-heap -of an island?” - -“When the pretty girl is engaged to marry the ruffian in the dirty -canvas pants——” - -“You don’t mean to tell me——” the other broke in excitedly. - -“It isn’t particularly amusing to said ruffian to be told that his -sweetheart has been kissing a ruffian she never saw before from off a -disreputable Jamaica nigger’s schooner,” Henry completed his sentence. - -“And she took me for you,” Francis mused, glimpsing the situation. “I -don’t blame you for losing your temper, though you must admit it’s a -nasty one. Wanted to cut off my ears yesterday, didn’t you?” - -“Yours is just as nasty, Francis, my boy. The way you insisted that I -cut them off when I had you down—ha! ha!” - -Both young men laughed in hearty amity. - -“It’s the old Morgan temper,” Henry said. “He was by all the accounts a -peppery old cuss.” - -“No more peppery than those Solanos you’re marrying into. Why, most of -the family came down on the beach and peppered me with rifles on my -departing way. And your Leoncia pulled her little popgun on a -long-bearded old fellow who might have been her father and gave him to -understand she’d shoot him full of holes if he didn’t stop plugging away -at me.” - -“It was her father, I’ll wager, old Enrico himself,” Henry exclaimed. -“And the other chaps were her brothers.” - -“Lovely lizards!” ejaculated Francis. “Say, don’t you think life is -liable to become a trifle monotonous when you’re married into such a -peaceful, dove-like family as that!” He broke off, struck by a new idea. -“By the way, Henry, since they all thought it was you, and not I, why in -thunderation did they want to kill _you_? Some more of your crusty -Morgan temper that peeved your prospective wife’s relatives?” - -Henry looked at him a moment, as if debating with himself, and then -answered. - -“I don’t mind telling you. It is a nasty mess, and I suppose my temper -was to blame. I quarreled with her uncle. He was her father’s youngest -brother——” - -“_Was?_” interrupted Francis with significant stress on the past tense. - -“_Was_, I said,” Henry nodded. “He _isn’t_ now. His name was Alfaro -Solano, and he had some temper himself. They claim to be descended from -the Spanish _conquistadores_, and they are prouder than hornets. He’d -made money in logwood, and he had just got a big henequen plantation -started farther down the coast. And then we quarreled. It was in the -little town over there—San Antonio. It may have been a misunderstanding, -though I still maintain he was wrong. He always was looking for trouble -with me—didn’t want me to marry Leoncia, you see. - -“Well, it was a hot time. It started in a _pulqueria_ where Alfaro had -been drinking more mescal than was good for him. He insulted me all -right. They had to hold us apart and take our guns away, and we -separated swearing death and destruction. That was the trouble—our -quarrel and our threats were heard by a score of witnesses. - -“Within two hours the Comisario himself and two gendarmes found me -bending over Alfaro’s body in a back street in the town. He’d been -knifed in the back, and I’d stumbled over him on the way to the beach. -Explain? No such thing. There were the quarrel and the threats of -vengeance, and there I was, not two hours afterward, caught dead to -right with his warm corpse. I haven’t been back in San Antonio since, -and I didn’t waste any time in getting away. Alfaro was very -popular,—you know the dashing type that catches the rabble’s fancy. Why, -they couldn’t have been persuaded to give me even the semblance of a -trial. Wanted my blood there and then, and I departed very pronto. - -“Next, up at Bocas del Toro, a messenger from Leoncia delivered back the -engagement ring. And there you are. I developed a real big disgust, and, -since I didn’t dare go back with all the Solanos and the rest of the -population thirsting for my life, I came over here to play hermit for a -while and dig for Morgan’s treasure.... Just the same, I wonder who did -stick that knife into Alfaro. If ever I find him, then I clear myself -with Leoncia and the rest of the Solanos and there isn’t a doubt in the -world that there’ll be a wedding. And now that it’s all over I don’t -mind admitting that Alfaro was a good scout, even if his temper did go -off at half-cock.” - -“Clear as print,” Francis murmured. “No wonder her father and brothers -wanted to perforate me.—Why, the more I look at you, the more I see -we’re as like as two peas, except for my mustache——” - -“And for this....” Henry rolled up his sleeve, and on the left forearm -showed a long, thin white scar. “Got that when I was a boy. Fell off a -windmill and through the glass roof of a hothouse.” - -“Now listen to me,” Francis said, his face beginning to light with the -project forming in his mind. “Somebody’s got to straighten you out of -this mess, and the chap’s name is Francis, partner in the firm of Morgan -and Morgan. You stick around here, or go over and begin prospecting on -the Bull, while I go back and explain things to Leoncia and her -people——” - -“If only they don’t shoot you first before you can explain you are not -I,” Henry muttered bitterly. “That’s the trouble with those Solanos. -They shoot first and talk afterward. They won’t listen to reason unless -it’s post mortem.” - -“Guess I’ll take a chance, old man,” Francis assured the other, himself -all fire with the plan of clearing up the distressing situation between -Henry and the girl. - -But the thought of her perplexed him. He experienced more than a twinge -of regret that the lovely creature belonged of right to the man who -looked so much like him, and he saw again the vision of her on the -beach, when, with conflicting emotions, she had alternately loved him -and yearned toward him and blazed her scorn and contempt on him. He -sighed involuntarily. - -“What’s that for?” Henry demanded quizzically. - -“Leoncia is an exceedingly pretty girl,” Francis answered with -transparent frankness. “Just the same, she’s yours, and I’m going to -make it my business to see that you get her. Where’s that ring she -returned? If I don’t put it on her finger for you and be back here in a -week with the good news, you can cut off my mustache along with my -ears.” - -An hour later, Captain Trefethen having sent a boat to the beach from -the _Angelique_ in response to signal, the two young men were saying -good-bye. - -“Just two things more, Francis. First, and I forgot to tell you, Leoncia -is not a Solano at all, though she thinks she is. Alfaro told me -himself. She is an adopted child, and old Enrico fairly worships her, -though neither his blood nor his race runs in her veins. Alfaro never -told me the ins and outs of it, though he did say she wasn’t Spanish at -all. I don’t even know whether she’s English or American. She talks good -enough English, though she got that at convent. You see, she was adopted -when she was a wee thing, and she’s never known anything else than that -Enrico is her father.” - -“And no wonder she scorned and hated me for you,” Francis laughed, -“believing, as she did, as she still does, that you knifed her full -blood-uncle in the back.” - -Henry nodded, and went on. - -“The other thing is fairly important. And that’s the law. Or the absence -of it, rather. They make it whatever they want it, down in this -out-of-the-way hole. It’s a long way to Panama, and the gobernador of -this state, or district, or whatever they call it, is a sleepy old -Silenus. The Jefe Politico at San Antonio is the man to keep an eye on. -He’s the little czar of that neck of the woods, and he’s some crooked -_hombre_, take it from yours truly. Graft is too weak a word to apply to -some of his deals, and he’s as cruel and blood-thirsty as a weasel. And -his one crowning delight is an execution. He dotes on a hanging. Keep -your weather eye on him, whatever you do.... And, well, so long. And -half of whatever I find on the Bull is yours: ... and see you get that -ring back on Leoncia’s finger.” - - * * * * * - -Two days later, after the half-breed skipper had reconnoitered ashore -and brought back the news that all the men of Leoncia’s family were -away, Francis had himself landed on the beach where he had first met -her. No maidens with silver revolvers nor men with rifles were manifest. -All was placid, and the only person on the beach was a ragged little -Indian boy who at sight of a coin readily consented to carry a note up -to the young senorita of the big hacienda. As Francis scrawled on a -sheet of paper from his notebook, “I am the man whom you mistook for -Henry Morgan, and I have a message for you from him,” he little dreamed -that untoward happenings were about to occur with as equal rapidity and -frequence as on his first visit. - -For that matter, could he have peeped over the out-jut of rock against -which he leaned his back while composing the note to Leoncia, he would -have been startled by a vision of the young lady herself, emerging like -a sea-goddess fresh from a swim in the sea. But he wrote calmly on, the -Indian lad even more absorbed than himself in the operation, so that it -was Leoncia, coming around the rock from behind, who first caught sight -of him. Stifling an exclamation, she turned and fled blindly into the -green screen of jungle. - -His first warning of her proximity was immediately thereafter, when a -startled scream of fear aroused him. Note and pencil fell to the sand as -he sprang toward the direction of the cry and collided with a wet and -scantily dressed young woman who was recoiling backward from whatever -had caused her scream. The unexpectedness of the collision was -provocative of a second startled scream from her ere she could turn and -recognize that it was not a new attack but a rescuer. - -She darted past him, her face colorless from the fright, stumbled over -the Indian boy, nor paused until she was out on the open sand. - -“What is it?” Francis demanded. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?” - -She pointed at her bare knee, where two tiny drops of blood oozed forth -side by side from two scarcely perceptible lacerations. - -“It was a viperine,” she said. “A deadly viperine. I shall be a dead -woman in five minutes, and I am glad, glad, for then my heart will be -tormented no more by you.” - -She leveled an accusing finger at him, gasped the beginning of -denunciation she could not utter, and sank down in a faint. - -Francis knew about the snakes of Central America merely by hearsay, but -the hearsay was terrible enough. Men talked of even mules and dogs dying -in horrible agony five to ten minutes after being struck by tiny -reptiles fifteen to twenty inches long. Small wonder she had fainted, -was his thought, with so terribly rapid a poison doubtlessly beginning -to work. His knowledge of the treatment of snake-bite was likewise -hearsay, but flashed through his mind the recollection of the need of a -tourniquet to shut off the circulation above the wound and prevent the -poison from reaching the heart. - -He pulled out his handkerchief and tied it loosely around her leg above -the knee, thrust in a short piece of driftwood stick, and twisted the -handkerchief to savage tightness. Next, and all by hearsay, working -swiftly, he opened the small blade of his pocket-knife, burned it with -several matches to make sure against germs, and cut carefully but -remorsely into the two lacerations made by the snake’s fangs. - -He was in a fright himself, working with feverish deftness and -apprehending at any moment that the pangs of dissolution would begin to -set in on the beautiful form before him. From all he had heard, the -bodies of snake-victims began to swell quickly and prodigiously. Even as -he finished excoriating the fang-wounds, his mind was made up to his -next two acts. First, he would suck out all poison he possibly could; -and, next, light a cigarette and with its live end proceed to cauterize -the flesh. - -But while he was still making light, criss-cross cuts with the point of -his knife-blade, she began to move restlessly. - -“Lie down,” he commanded, as she sat up, and just when he was bending -his lips to the task. - -In response, he received a resounding slap alongside of his face from -her little hand. At the same instant the Indian lad danced out of the -jungle, swinging a small dead snake by the tail and crying exultingly: - -“Labarri! Labarri!” - -At which Francis assumed the worst. - -“Lie down, and be quiet!” he repeated harshly. “You haven’t a second to -lose.” - -But she had eyes only for the dead snake. Her relief was patent; but -Francis was no witness to it, for he was bending again to perform the -classic treatment of snake-bite. - -“You dare!” she threatened him. “It’s only a baby labarri, and its bite -is harmless. I thought it was a viperine. They look alike when the -labarri is small.” - -The constriction of the circulation by the tourniquet pained her, and -she glanced down and discovered his handkerchief knotted around her leg. - -“Oh, what have you done?” - -A warm blush began to suffuse her face. - -“But it was only a baby labarri,” she reproached him. - -“You told me it was a viperine,” he retorted. - -She hid her face in her hands, although the pink of flush burned -furiously in her ears. Yet he could have sworn, unless it were hysteria, -that she was laughing; and he knew for the first time how really hard -was the task he had undertaken to put the ring of another man on her -finger. So he deliberately hardened his heart against the beauty and -fascination of her, and said bitterly: - -“And now, I suppose some of your gentry will shoot me full of holes -because I don’t know a labarri from a viperine. You might call some of -the farm hands down to do it. Or maybe you’d like to take a shot at me -yourself.” - -But she seemed not to have heard, for she had arisen with the quick -litheness to be expected of so gloriously fashioned a creature, and was -stamping her foot on the sand. - -“It’s asleep—my foot,” she explained with laughter unhidden this time by -her hands. - -“You’re acting perfectly disgracefully,” he assured her wickedly, “when -you consider that I am the murderer of your uncle.” - -Thus reminded, the laughter ceased and the color receded from her face. -She made no reply, but bending, with fingers that trembled with anger -she strove to unknot the handkerchief as if it were some loathsome -thing. - -“Better let me help,” he suggested pleasantly. - -“You beast!” she flamed at him. “Step aside. Your shadow falls upon me.” - -“Now you are delicious, charming,” he girded, belying the desire that -stirred compellingly within him to clasp her in his arms. “You quite -revive my last recollection of you here on the beach, one second -reproaching me for not kissing you, the next second kissing me—yes, you -did, too—and the third second threatening to destroy my digestion -forever with that little tin toy pistol of yours. No; you haven’t -changed an iota from last time. You’re the same spitfire of a Leoncia. -You’d better let me untie that for you. Don’t you see the knot is -jammed? Your little fingers can never manage it.” - -She stamped her foot in sheer inarticulateness of rage. - -“Lucky for me you don’t make a practice of taking your tin toy pistol in -swimming with you,” he teased on, “or else there’d be a funeral right -here on the beach pretty pronto of a perfectly nice young man whose -intentions are never less than the best.” - -The Indian boy returned at this moment running with her bathing wrap, -which she snatched from him and put on hastily. Next, with the boy’s -help, she attacked the knot again. When the handkerchief came off she -flung it from her as if in truth it were a viperine. - -“It was contamination,” she flashed, for his benefit. - -But Francis, still engaged in hardening his heart against her, shook his -head slowly and said: - -“It doesn’t save you, Leoncia. I’ve left my mark on you that never will -come off.” - -He pointed to the excoriations he had made on her knee and laughed. - -“The mark of the beast,” she came back, turning to go. “I warn you to -take yourself off, Mr. Henry Morgan.” - -But he stepped in her way. - -“And now we’ll talk business, Miss Solano,” he said in changed tones. -“And you will listen. Let your eyes flash all they please, but don’t -interrupt me.” He stooped and picked up the note he had been engaged in -writing. “I was just sending that to you by the boy when you screamed. -Take it. Read it. It won’t bite you. It isn’t a viperine.” - -Though she refused to receive it, her eyes involuntarily scanned the -opening line: - -_I am the man whom you mistook for Henry Morgan_... - -She looked at him with startled eyes that could not comprehend much but -which were guessing many vague things. - -“On my honor,” he said gravely. - -“You ... are ... not ... Henry?” she gasped. - -“No, I am not. Won’t you please take it and read.” - -This time she complied, while he gazed with all his eyes upon the golden -pallor of the sun on her tropic-touched blonde face which colored the -blood beneath, or which was touched by the blood beneath, to the -amazingly beautiful golden pallor. - -Almost in a dream he discovered himself looking into her startled, -questioning eyes of velvet brown. - -“And who should have signed this?” she repeated. - -He came to himself and bowed. - -“But the name?—your name?” - -“Morgan, Francis Morgan. As I explained there, Henry and I are some sort -of distant relatives—forty-fifth cousins, or something like that.” - -To his bewilderment, a great doubt suddenly dawned in her eyes, and the -old familiar anger flashed. - -“Henry,” she accused him. “This is a ruse, a devil’s trick you’re trying -to play on me. Of course you are Henry.” - -Francis pointed to his mustache. - -“You’ve grown that since,” she challenged. - -He pulled up his sleeve and showed her his left arm from wrist to elbow. -But she only looked her incomprehension of the meaning of his action. - -“Do you remember the scar?” he asked. - -She nodded. - -“Then find it.” - -She bent her head in swift vain search, then shook it slowly as she -faltered: - -“I ... I ask your forgiveness. I was terribly mistaken, and when I think -of the way I ... I’ve treated you ...” - -“That kiss was delightful,” he naughtily disclaimed. - -She recollected more immediate passages, glanced down at her knee and -stifled what he adjudged was a most adorable giggle. - -“You say you have a message from Henry,” she changed the subject -abruptly. “And that he is innocent...? This is true? Oh, I do want to -believe you!” - -“I am morally certain that Henry no more killed your uncle than did I——” - -“Then say no more, at least not now,” she interrupted joyfully. “First -of all I must make amends to you, though you must confess that some of -the things you have done and said were abominable. You had no right to -kiss me.” - -“If you will remember,” he contended, “I did it at the pistol point. How -was I to know but what I would get shot if I didn’t.” - -“Oh, hush, hush,” she begged. “You must go with me now to the house. And -you can tell me about Henry on the way.” - -Her eyes chanced upon the handkerchief she had flung so contemptuously -aside. She ran to it and picked it up. - -“Poor, ill-treated kerchief,” she crooned to it. “To you also must I -make amends. I shall myself launder you, and....” Her eyes lifted to -Francis as she addressed him. “And return it to you, sir, fresh and -sweet and all wrapped around my heart of gratitude....” - -“And the mark of the beast?” he queried. - -“I am so sorry,” she confessed penitently. - -“And may I be permitted to rest my shadow upon you?” - -“Do! Do!” she cried gaily. “There! I am in your shadow now. And we must -start.” - -Francis tossed a peso to the grinning Indian boy, and, in high elation, -turned and followed her into the tropic growth on the path that led up -to the white hacienda. - - * * * * * - -Seated on the broad piazza of the Solano Hacienda, Alvarez Torres saw -through the tropic shrubs the couple approaching along the winding -driveway. And he saw what made him grit his teeth and draw very -erroneous conclusions. He muttered imprecations to himself and forgot -his cigarette. - -What he saw was Leoncia and Francis in such deep and excited talk as to -be oblivious of everything else. He saw Francis grow so urgent of speech -and gesture as to cause Leoncia to stop abruptly and listen further to -his pleading. Next—and Torres could scarcely believe the evidence of his -eyes, he saw Francis produce a ring, and Leoncia, with averted face, -extend her left hand and receive the ring upon her third finger. -Engagement finger it was, and Torres could have sworn to it. - -What had really occurred was the placing of Henry’s engagement ring back -on Leoncia’s hand. And Leoncia, she knew not why, had been vaguely -averse to receiving it. - -Torres tossed the dead cigarette away, twisted his mustache fiercely, as -if to relieve his own excitement, and advanced to meet them across the -piazza. He did not return the girl’s greeting at the first. Instead, -with the wrathful face of the Latin, he burst out at Francis: - -“One does not expect shame in a murderer, but at least one does expect -simple decency.” - -Francis smiled whimsically. - -“There it goes again,” he said. “Another lunatic in this lunatic land. -The last time, Leoncia, that I saw this gentleman was in New York. He -was really anxious to do business with me. Now I meet him here and the -first thing he tells me is that I am an indecent, shameless murderer.” - -“Senor Torres, you must apologize,” she declared angrily. “The house of -Solano is not accustomed to having its guests insulted.” - -“The house of Solano, I then understand, is accustomed to having its men -murdered by transient adventurers,” he retorted. “No sacrifice is too -great when it is in the name of hospitality.” - -“Get off your foot, Senor Torres,” Francis advised him pleasantly. “You -are standing on it. I know what your mistake is. You think I am Henry -Morgan. I am Francis Morgan, and you and I, not long ago, transacted -business together in Regan’s office in New York. There’s my hand. Your -shaking of it will be sufficient apology under the circumstances.” - -Torres, overwhelmed for the moment by his mistake, took the extended -hand and uttered apologies both to Francis and Leoncia. - -“And now,” she beamed through laughter, clapping her hands to call a -house-servant, “I must locate Mr. Morgan, and go and get some clothes -on. And after that, Senor Torres, if you will pardon us, we will tell -you about Henry.” - -While she departed, and while Francis followed away to his room on the -heels of a young and pretty _mestiza_ woman, Torres, his brain resuming -its functions, found he was more amazed and angry than ever. This, then, -was a newcomer and stranger to Leoncia whom he had seen putting a ring -on her engagement finger. He thought quickly and passionately for a -moment. Leoncia, whom to himself he always named the queen of his -dreams, had, on an instant’s notice, engaged herself to a strange Gringo -from New York. It was unbelievable, monstrous. - -He clapped his hands, summoned his hired carriage from San Antonio, and -was speeding down the drive when Francis strolled forth to have a talk -with him about further details of the hiding place of old Morgan’s -treasure. - - * * * * * - -After lunch, when a land-breeze sprang up, which meant fair wind and a -quick run across Chiriqui Lagoon and along the length of it to the Bull -and the Calf, Francis, eager to bring to Henry the good word that his -ring adorned Leoncia’s finger, resolutely declined her proffered -hospitality to remain for the night and meet Enrico Solano and his tall -sons. Francis had a further reason for hasty departure. He could not -endure the presence of Leoncia—and this in no sense uncomplimentary to -her. She charmed him, drew him, to such extent that he dared not endure -her charm and draw if he were to remain man-faithful to the man in the -canvas pants even then digging holes in the sands of the Bull. - -So Francis departed, a letter to Henry from Leoncia in his pocket. The -last moment, ere he departed, was abrupt. With a sigh so quickly -suppressed that Leoncia wondered whether or not she had imagined it, he -tore himself away. She gazed after his retreating form down the driveway -until it was out of sight, then stared at the ring on her finger with a -vaguely troubled expression. - -From the beach, Francis signaled the _Angelique_, riding at anchor, to -send a boat ashore for him. But before it had been swung into the water, -half a dozen horsemen, revolver-belted, rifles across their pommels, -rode down the beach upon him at a gallop. Two men led. The following -four were hang-dog half-castes. Of the two leaders, Francis recognized -Torres. Every rifle came to rest on Francis, and he could not but obey -the order snarled at him by the unknown leader to throw up his hands. -And Francis opined aloud: - -“To think of it! Once, only the other day—or was it a million years -ago?—I thought auction bridge, at a dollar a point, was some excitement. -Now, sirs, you on your horses, with your weapons threatening the violent -introduction of foreign substances into my poor body, tell me what is -doing now. Don’t I ever get off this beach without gunpowder -complications? Is it my ears, or merely my mustache, you want?” - -“We want you,” answered the stranger leader, whose mustache bristled as -magnetically as his crooked black eyes. - -“And in the name of original sin and of all lovely lizards, who might -you be?” - -“He is the honorable Senor Mariano Vercara è Hijos, Jefe Politico of San -Antonio,” Torres replied. - -“Good night,” Francis laughed, remembering the man’s description as -given to him by Henry. “I suppose you think I’ve broken some harbor rule -or sanitary regulation by anchoring here. But you must settle such -things with my captain, Captain Trefethen, a very estimable gentleman. I -am only the charterer of the schooner—just a passenger. You will find -Captain Trefethen right up in maritime law and custom.” - -“You are wanted for the murder of Alfaro Solano,” was Torres’ answer. -“You didn’t fool me, Henry Morgan, with your talk up at the hacienda -that you were some one else. I know that some one else. His name is -Francis Morgan, and I do not hesitate to add that he is not a murderer, -but a gentleman.” - -“Ye gods and little fishes!” Francis exclaimed. “And yet you shook hands -with me, Senor Torres.” - -“I was fooled,” Torres admitted sadly. “But only for a moment. Will you -come peaceably?” - -“As if——” Francis shrugged his shoulders eloquently at the six rifles. -“I suppose you’ll give me a pronto trial and hang me at daybreak.” - -“Justice is swift in Panama,” the Jefe Politico replied, his English -queerly accented but understandable. “But not so quick as that. We will -not hang you at daybreak. Ten o’clock in the morning is more comfortable -all around, don’t you think?” - -“Oh, by all means,” Francis retorted. “Make it eleven, or twelve noon—I -won’t mind.” - -“You will kindly come with us, Senor,” Mariano Vercara è Hijos, said, -the suavity of his diction not masking the iron of its intention. “Juan! -Ignacio!” he ordered in Spanish. “Dismount! Take his weapons. No, it -will not be necessary to tie his hands. Put him on the horse behind -Gregorio.” - - * * * * * - -Francis, in a venerably whitewashed adobe cell with walls five feet -thick, its earth floor carpeted with the forms of half a dozen sleeping -peon prisoners, listened to a dim hammering not very distant, remembered -the trial from which he had just emerged, and whistled long and low. The -hour was half-past eight in the evening. The trial had begun at eight. -The hammering was the hammering together of the scaffold beams, from -which place of eminence he was scheduled at ten next morning to swing -off into space supported from the ground by a rope around his neck. The -trial had lasted half an hour by his watch. Twenty minutes would have -covered it had Leoncia not burst in and prolonged it by the ten minutes -courteously accorded her as the great lady of the Solano family. - -“The Jefe was right,” Francis acknowledged to himself in a matter of -soliloquy. “Panama justice does move swiftly.” - -The very possession of the letter given him by Leoncia and addressed to -Henry Morgan had damned him. The rest had been easy. Half a dozen -witnesses had testified to the murder and identified him as the -murderer. The Jefe Politico himself had so testified. The one cheerful -note had been the eruption on the scene of Leoncia, chaperoned by a -palsied old aunt of the Solano family. That had been sweet—the fight the -beautiful girl had put up for his life, despite the fact that it was -foredoomed to futility. - -When she had made Francis roll up the sleeve and expose his left -forearm, he had seen the Jefe Politico shrug his shoulders -contemptuously. And he had seen Leoncia fling a passion of Spanish -words, too quick for him to follow, at Torres. And he had seen and heard -the gesticulation and the roar of the mob-filled courtroom as Torres had -taken the stand. - -But what he had not seen was the whispered colloquy between Torres and -the Jefe, as the former was in the thick of forcing his way through the -press to the witness box. He no more saw this particular side-play than -did he know that Torres was in the pay of Regan to keep him away from -New York as long as possible, and as long as ever if possible, nor than -did he know that Torres himself, in love with Leoncia, was consumed with -a jealousy that knew no limit to its ire. - -All of which had blinded Francis to the play under the interrogation of -Torres by Leoncia, which had compelled Torres to acknowledge that he had -never seen a scar on Francis Morgan’s left forearm. While Leoncia had -looked at the little old judge in triumph, the Jefe Politico had -advanced and demanded of Torres in stentorian tones: - -“Can you swear that you ever saw a scar on Henry Morgan’s arm?” - -Torres had been baffled and embarrassed, had looked bewilderment to the -judge and pleadingness to Leoncia, and, in the end, without speech, -shaken his head that he could not so swear. - -The roar of triumph had gone up from the crowd of ragamuffins. The judge -had pronounced sentence, the roar had doubled on itself, and Francis had -been hustled out and to his cell, not entirely unresistingly, by the -gendarmes and the Comisario, all apparently solicitous of saving him -from the mob that was unwilling to wait till ten next morning for his -death. - -“That poor dub, Torres, who fell down on the scar on Henry!” Francis was -meditating sympathetically, when the bolts of his cell door shot back -and he arose to greet Leoncia. - -But she declined to greet him for the moment, as she flared at the -Comisario in rapid-fire Spanish, with gestures of command to which he -yielded when he ordered the jailer to remove the peons to other cells, -and himself, with a nervous and apologetic bowing, went out and closed -the door. - -And then Leoncia broke down, sobbing on his shoulder, in his arms: “It -is a cursed country, a cursed country. There is no fair play.” - -And as Francis held her pliant form, meltingly exquisite in its -maddeningness of woman, he remembered Henry, in his canvas pants, -barefooted, under his floppy sombrero, digging holes in the sand of the -Bull. - -He tried to draw away from the armful of deliciousness, and only half -succeeded. Still, at such slight removal of distance, he essayed the -intellectual part, rather than the emotional part he desired all too -strongly to act. - -“And now I know at last what a frame-up is,” he assured her, farthest -from the promptings of his heart. “If these Latins of your country -thought more coolly instead of acting so passionately, they might be -building railroads and developing their country. That trial was a -straight passionate frame-up. They just _knew_ I was guilty and were so -eager to punish me that they wouldn’t even bother for mere evidence or -establishment of identity. Why delay? They _knew_ Henry Morgan had -knifed Alfaro. They _knew_ I was Henry Morgan. When one knows, why -bother to find out?” - -Deaf to his words, sobbing and struggling to cling closer while he -spoke, the moment he had finished she was deep again in his arms, -against him, to him, her lips raised to his; and, ere he was aware, his -own lips to hers. - -“I love you, I love you,” she whispered brokenly. - -“No, no,” he denied what he most desired. “Henry and I are too alike. It -is Henry you love, and I am not Henry.” - -She tore herself away from her own clinging, drew Henry’s ring from her -finger, and threw it on the floor. Francis was so beyond himself that he -knew not what was going to happen the next moment, and was only saved -from whatever it might be by the entrance of the Comisario, watch in -hand, with averted face striving to see naught else than the moments -registered by the second-hand on the dial. - -She stiffened herself proudly, and all but broke down again as Francis -slipped Henry’s ring back on her finger and kissed her hand in farewell. -Just ere she passed out the door she turned and with a whispered -movement of the lips that was devoid of sound told him: “I love you.” - - * * * * * - -Promptly as the stroke of the clock, at ten o’clock Francis was led out -into the jail patio where stood the gallows. All San Antonio was -joyously and shoutingly present, including much of the neighboring -population and Leoncia, Enrico Solano, and his five tall sons. Enrico -and his sons fumed and strutted, but the Jefe Politico, backed by the -Comisario and his gendarmes, was adamant. In vain, as Francis was forced -to the foot of the scaffold, did Leoncia strive to get to him and did -her men strive to persuade her to leave the patio. In vain, also, did -her father and brothers protest that Francis was not the man. The Jefe -Politico smiled contemptuously and ordered the execution to proceed. - -On top the scaffold, standing on the trap, Francis declined the -ministrations of the priest, telling him in Spanish that no innocent man -being hanged needed intercessions with the next world, but that the men -who were doing the hanging were in need of just such intercessions. - -They had tied Francis’ legs, and were in the act of tying his arms, with -the men who held the noose and the black cap hovering near to put them -on him, when the voice of a singer was heard approaching from without; -and the song he sang was: - - “Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew....” - -Leoncia, almost fainting, recovered at the sound of the voice, and cried -out with sharp delight as she descried Henry Morgan entering, thrusting -aside the guards at the gate who tried to bar his way. - -At sight of him the only one present who suffered chagrin was Torres, -which passed unnoticed in the excitement. The populace was in accord -with the Jefe, who shrugged his shoulders and announced that one man was -as good as another so long as the hanging went on. And here arose hot -contention from the Solano men that Henry was likewise innocent of the -murder of Alfaro. But it was Francis, from the scaffold, while his arms -and legs were being untied, who shouted through the tumult: - -“You tried me! You have not tried him! You cannot hang a man without -trial! He must have his trial!” - -And when Francis had descended from the scaffold and was shaking Henry’s -hand in both his own, the Comisario, with the Jefe at his back, duly -arrested Henry Morgan for the murder of Alfaro Solano. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -“We must work quickly—that is the one thing sure,” Francis said to the -little conclave of Solanos on the piazza of the Solano hacienda. - -“One thing sure!” Leoncia cried out scornfully ceasing from her -anguished pacing up and down. “The one thing sure is that we must save -him.” - -As she spoke, she shook a passionate finger under Francis’ nose to -emphasize her point. Not content, she shook her finger with equal -emphasis under the noses of all and sundry of her father and brothers. - -“Quick!” she flamed on. “Of course we must be quick. It is that, or....” -Her voice trailed off into the unvoiceable horror of what would happen -to Henry if they were not quick. - -“All Gringos look alike to the Jefe,” Francis nodded sympathetically. -She was splendidly beautiful and wonderful, he thought. “He certainly -runs all San Antonio, and short shrift is his motto. He’ll give Henry no -more time than he gave us. We must get him out to-night.” - -“Now listen,” Leoncia began again. “We Solanos cannot permit this ... -this execution. Our pride ... our honor. We cannot permit it. Speak! any -of you. Father—you. Suggest something....” - -And while the discussion went on, Francis, for the time being silent, -wrestled deep in the throes of sadness. Leoncia’s fervor was -magnificent, but it was for another man and it did not precisely -exhilarate him. Strong upon him was the memory of the jail patio after -he had been released and Henry had been arrested. He could still see, -with the same stab at the heart, Leoncia in Henry’s arms, Henry seeking -her hand to ascertain if his ring was on it, and the long kiss of the -embrace that followed. - -Ah, well, he sighed to himself, he had done his best. After Henry had -been led away, had he not told Leoncia, quite deliberately and coldly, -that Henry was her man and lover, and the wisest of choices for the -daughter of the Solanos? - -But the memory of it did not make him a bit happy. Nor did the rightness -of it. Right it was. That he never questioned, and it strengthened him -into hardening his heart against her. Yet the right, he found in his -case, to be the sorriest of consolation. - -And yet what else could he expect? It was his misfortune to have arrived -too late in Central America, that was all, and to find this flower of -woman already annexed by a previous comer—a man as good as himself, and, -his heart of fairness prompted, even better. And his heart of fairness -compelled loyalty to Henry from him—to Henry Morgan, of the breed and -blood; to Henry Morgan, the wild-fire descendant of a wild-fire -ancestor, in canvas pants, and floppy sombrero, with a penchant for the -ears of strange young men, living on sea biscuit and turtle eggs and -digging up the Bull and the Calf for old Sir Henry’s treasure. - - * * * * * - -And while Enrico Solano and his sons talked plans and projects on their -broad piazza, to which Francis lent only half an ear, a house servant -came, whispered in Leoncia’s ear, and led her away around the ell of the -piazza, where occurred a scene that would have excited Francis’ -risibilities and wrath. - -Around the ell, Alvarez Torres, in all the medieval Spanish splendor of -dress of a great haciendado-owner, such as still obtains in Latin -America, greeted her, bowed low with doffed sombrero in hand, and seated -her in a rattan settee. Her own greeting was sad, but shot through with -curiousness, as if she hoped he brought some word of hope. - -“The trial is over, Leoncia,” he said softly, tenderly, as one speaks of -the dead. “He is sentenced. To-morrow at ten o’clock is the time. It is -all very sad, most very sad. But....” He shrugged his shoulders. “No, I -shall not speak harshly of him. He was an honorable man. His one fault -was his temper. It was too quick, too fiery. It led him into a mischance -of honor. Never, in a cool moment of reasonableness, would he have -stabbed Alfaro——” - -“He never killed my uncle!” Leoncia cried, raising her averted face. - -“And it is regrettable,” Torres proceeded gently and sadly, avoiding any -disagreement. “The judge, the people, the Jefe Politico, unfortunately, -are all united in believing that he did. Which is most regrettable. But -which is not what I came to see you about. I came to offer my service in -any and all ways you may command. My life, my honor, are at your -disposal. Speak. I am your slave.” - -Dropping suddenly and gracefully on one knee before her, he caught her -hand from her lap, and would have instantly flooded on with his speech, -had not his eyes lighted on the diamond ring on her engagement finger. -He frowned, but concealed the frown with bent face until he could drive -it from his features and begin to speak. - -“I knew you when you were small, Leoncia, so very, very charmingly -small, and I loved you always.—No, listen! Please. My heart must speak. -Hear me out. I loved you always. But when you returned from your -convent, from schooling abroad, a woman, a grand and noble lady fit to -rule in the house of the Solanos, I was burnt by your beauty. I have -been patient. I refrained from speaking. But you may have guessed. You -surely must have guessed. I have been on fire for you ever since. I have -been consumed by the flame of your beauty, by the flame of you that is -deeper than your beauty.” - -He was not to be stopped, as she well knew, and she listened patiently, -gazing down on his bent head and wondering idly why his hair was so -unbecomingly cut, and whether it had been last cut in New York or San -Antonio. - -“Do you know what you have been to me ever since your return?” - -She did not reply, nor did she endeavour to withdraw her hand, although -his was crushing and bruising her flesh against Henry Morgan’s ring. She -forgot to listen, led away by a chain of thought that linked far. Not in -such rhodomontade of speech had Henry Morgan loved and won her, was the -beginning of the chain. Why did those of Spanish blood always voice -their emotions so exaggeratedly? Henry had been so different. Scarcely -had he spoken a word. He had acted. Under her glamor, himself glamoring -her, without warning, so certain was he not to surprise and frighten -her, he had put his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. And -hers had been neither too startled nor altogether unresponsive. Not -until after that first kiss, arms still around her, had Henry begun to -speak at all. - -And what plan was being broached around the corner of the ell by her men -and Francis Morgan? Her mind strayed on, deaf to the suitor at her feet. -Francis! Ah—she almost sighed, and marveled, what of her self-known love -for Henry, why this stranger Gringo so enamored her heart. Was she a -wanton? Was it one man? Or another man? Or any man? No! No! She was not -fickle nor unfaithful. And yet?... Perhaps it was because Francis and -Henry were so much alike, and her poor stupid loving woman’s heart -failed properly to distinguish between them. And yet—while it had seemed -she would have followed Henry anywhere over the world, in any luck or -fortune, it seemed to her now that she would follow Francis even -farther. She did _love_ Henry, her heart solemnly proclaimed. But also -did she love Francis, and almost did she divine that Francis loved -her—the fervor of his lips on hers in his prison cell was inerasable; -and there was a difference in her love for the two men that confuted her -powers of reason and almost drove her to the shameful conclusion that -she, the latest and only woman of the house of Solano, was a wanton. - -A severe pinch of her flesh against Henry’s ring, caused by the -impassioned grasp of Torres, brought her back to him, so that she could -hear the spate of his speech pouring on: - -“You have been the delicious thorn in my side, the spiked rowel of the -spur forever prodding the sweetest and most poignant pangs of love into -my breast. I have dreamed of you ... and for you. And I have my own name -for you. Ever the one name I have had for you: the Queen of my Dreams. -And you will marry me, my Leoncia. We will forget this mad Gringo who is -as already dead. I shall be gentle, kind. I shall love you always. And -never shall any vision of him arise between us. For myself, I shall not -permit it. For you ... I shall love you so that it will be impossible -for the memory of him to arise between us and give you one moment’s -heart-hurt.” - -Leoncia debated in a long pause that added fuel to Torres’ hopes. She -felt the need to temporise. If Henry were to be saved ... and had not -Torres offered his services? Not lightly could she turn him away when a -man’s life might depend upon him. - -“Speak!—I am consuming!” Torres urged in a choking voice. - -“Hush! Hush!” she said softly. “How can I listen to love from a live -man, when the man I loved is yet alive?” - -_Loved!_ The past tense of it startled her. Likewise it startled Torres, -fanning his hopes to fairer flames. Almost was she his. She had said -_loved_. She no longer bore love for Henry. She _had_ loved him, but no -longer. And she, a maid and woman of delicacy and sensibility, could -not, of course, give name to her love for him while the other man still -lived. It was subtle of her. He prided himself on his own subtlety, and -he flattered himself that he had interpreted her veiled thought aright. -And ... well, he resolved, he would see to it that the man who was to -die at ten next morning should have neither reprieve nor rescue. The one -thing clear, if he were to win Leoncia quickly, was that Henry Morgan -should die quickly. - -“We will speak of it no more ... now,” he said with chivalric -gentleness, as he gently pressed her hand, rose to his feet, and gazed -down on her. - -She returned a soft pressure of thanks with her own hand ere she -released it and stood up. - -“Come,” she said. “We will join the others. They are planning now, or -trying to find some plan, to save Henry Morgan.” - -The conversation of the group ebbed away as they joined it, as if out of -half-suspicion of Torres. - -“Have you hit upon anything yet?” Leoncia asked. - -Old Enrico, straight and slender and graceful as any of his sons despite -his age, shook his head. - -“I have a plan, if you will pardon me,” Torres began, but ceased at a -warning glance from Alesandro, the eldest son. - -On the walk, below the piazza, had appeared two scarecrows of beggar -boys. Not more than ten years of age, by their size, they seemed much -older when judged by the shrewdness of their eyes and faces. Each wore a -single marvelous garment, so that between them it could be said they -shared a shirt and pants. But such a shirt! And such pants! The latter, -man-size, of ancient duck, were buttoned around the lad’s neck, the -waistband reefed with knotted twine so as not to slip down over his -shoulders. His arms were thrust through the holes where the side-pockets -had been. The legs of the pants had been hacked off with a knife to suit -his own diminutive length of limb. The tails of the man’s shirt on the -other boy dragged on the ground. - -“Vamos!” Alesandro shouted fiercely at them to be gone. - -But the boy in the pants gravely removed a stone which he had been -carrying on top of his bare head, exposing a letter which had been thus -carried. Alesandro leaned over, took the letter, and with a glance at -the inscription passed it to Leoncia, while the boys began whining for -money. Francis, smiling despite himself at the spectacle of them, tossed -them a few pieces of small silver, whereupon the shirt and the pants -toddled away down the path. - -The letter was from Henry, and Leoncia scanned it hurriedly. It was not -precisely in farewell, for he wrote in the tenour of a man who never -expected to die save by some inconceivable accident. Nevertheless, on -the chance of such inconceivable thing becoming possible, Henry did -manage to say good-bye and to include a facetious recommendation to -Leoncia not to forget Francis, who was well worth remembering because he -was so much like himself, Henry. - -Leoncia’s first impulse was to show the letter to the others, but the -portion about Francis with-strained her. - -“It’s from Henry,” she said, tucking the note into her bosom. “There is -nothing of importance. He seems to have not the slightest doubt that he -will escape somehow.” - -“We shall see that he does,” Francis declared positively. - -With a grateful smile to him, and with one of interrogation to Torres, -Leoncia said: - -“You were speaking of a plan, Senor Torres?” - -Torres smiled, twisted his mustache, and struck an attitude of -importance. - -“There is one way, the Gringo, Anglo-Saxon way, and it is simple, -straight to the point. That is just what it is, straight to the point. -We will go and take Henry out of jail in forthright, brutal and direct -Gringo fashion. It is the one thing they will not expect. Therefore, it -will succeed. There are enough unhung rascals on the beach with which to -storm the jail. Hire them, pay them well, but only partly in advance, -and the thing is accomplished.” - -Leoncia nodded eager agreement. Old Enrico’s eyes flashed and his -nostrils distended as if already sniffing gunpowder. The young men were -taking fire from his example. And all looked to Francis for his opinion -or agreement. He shook his head slowly, and Leoncia uttered a sharp cry -of disappointment in him. - -“That way is hopeless,” he said. “Why should all of you risk your necks -in a madcap attempt like that, doomed to failure from the start?” As he -talked, he strode across from Leoncia’s side to the railing in such way -as to be for a moment between Torres and the other men, and at the same -time managed a warning look to Enrico and his sons. “As for Henry, it -looks as if it were all up with him——” - -“You mean you doubt me?” Torres bristled. - -“Heavens, man,” Francis protested. - -But Torres dashed on: “You mean that I am forbidden by you, a man I have -scarcely met, from the councils of the Solanos who are my oldest and -most honored friends.” - -Old Enrico, who had not missed the rising wrath against Francis in -Leoncia’s face, succeeded in conveying a warning to her, ere, with a -courteous gesture, he hushed Torres and began to speak. - -“There are no councils of the Solanos from which you are barred, Senor -Torres. You are indeed an old friend of the family. Your late father and -I were comrades, almost brothers. But that—and you will pardon an old -man’s judgment—does not prevent Senor Morgan from being right when he -says your plan is hopeless. To storm the jail is truly madness. Look at -the thickness of the walls. They could stand a siege of weeks. And yet, -and I confess it, almost was I tempted when you first broached the idea. -Now when I was a young man, fighting the Indians in the high -Cordilleras, there was a very case in point. Come, let us all be seated -and comfortable, and I will tell you the tale....” - -But Torres, busy with many things, declined to wait, and with soothed -amicable feelings shook hands all around, briefly apologized to Francis, -and departed astride his silver-saddled and silver-bridled horse for San -Antonio. One of the things that busied him was the cable correspondence -maintained between him and Thomas Regan’s Wall Street office. Having -secret access to the Panamanian government wireless station at San -Antonio, he was thus able to relay messages to the cable station at Vera -Cruz. Not alone was his relationship with Regan proving lucrative, but -it was jibing in with his own personal plans concerning Leoncia and the -Morgans. - -“What have you against Senor Torres, that you should reject his plan and -anger him?” Leoncia demanded of Francis. - -“Nothing,” was the answer, “except that we do not need him, and that I’m -not exactly infatuated with him. He is a fool and would spoil any plan. -Look at the way he fell down on testifying at my trial. Maybe he can’t -be trusted. I don’t know. Anyway, what’s the good of trusting him when -we don’t need him? Now his plan is all right. We’ll go straight to the -jail and take Henry out, if all you are game for it. And we don’t need -to trust to a mob of unhung rascals and beach-sweepings. If the six men -of us can’t do it, we might as well quit.” - -“There must be at least a dozen guards always hanging out at the jail,” -Ricardo, Leoncia’s youngest brother, a lad of eighteen, objected. - -Leoncia, her eagerness alive again, frowned at him; but Francis took his -part. - -“Well taken,” he agreed. “But we will eliminate the guards.” - -“The five-foot walls,” said Martinez Solano, twin brother to Alvarado. - -“Go through them,” Francis answered. - -“But how?” Leoncia cried. - -“That’s what I am arriving at. You, Senor Solano, have plenty of saddle -horses? Good. And you, Alesandro, does it chance you could procure me a -couple of sticks of dynamite from around the plantation? Good, and -better than good. And you, Leoncia, as the lady of the hacienda, should -know whether you have in your store-room a plentiful supply of that -three-star rye whiskey?” - -“Ah, the plot thickens,” he laughed, on receiving her assurance. “We’ve -all the properties for a Rider Haggard or Rex Beach adventure tale. Now -listen. But wait. I want to talk to you, Leoncia, about private -theatricals....” - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - -It was in the mid-afternoon, and Henry, at his barred cell-window, -stared out into the street and wondered if any sort of breeze would ever -begin to blow from off Chiriqui Lagoon and cool the stagnant air. The -street was dusty and filthy—filthy, because the only scavengers it had -ever known since the town was founded centuries before were the carrion -dogs and obscene buzzards even then prowling and hopping about in the -debris. Low, whitewashed buildings of stone and adobe made the street a -furnace. - -The white of it all, and the dust, was almost achingly intolerable to -the eyes, and Henry would have withdrawn his gaze, had not the several -ragged _mosos_, dozing in a doorway opposite, suddenly aroused and -looked interestedly up the street. Henry could not see, but he could -hear the rattling spokes of some vehicle coming at speed. Next, it -surged into view, a rattletrap light wagon drawn by a runaway horse. In -the seat a gray-headed, gray-bearded ancient strove vainly to check the -animal. - -Henry smiled and marveled that the rickety wagon could hold together, so -prodigious were the bumps imparted to it by the deep ruts. Every wheel, -half-dished and threatening to dish, wobbled and revolved out of line -with every other wheel. And if the wagon held intact, Henry judged, it -was a miracle that the crazy harness did not fly to pieces. When -directly opposite the window, the old man made a last effort, -half-standing up from the seat as he pulled on the reins. One was -rotten, and broke. As the driver fell backward into the seat, his weight -on the remaining rein caused the horse to swerve sharply to the right. -What happened then—whether a wheel dished, or whether a wheel had come -off first and dished afterward—Henry could not determine. The one -incontestable thing was that the wagon was a wreck. The old man, -dragging in the dust and stubbornly hanging on to the remaining rein, -swung the horse in a circle until it stopped, facing him and snorting at -him. - -By the time he gained his feet a crowd of _mosos_ was forming about him. -These were roughly shouldered right and left by the gendarmes who -erupted from the jail. Henry remained at the window and, for a man with -but a few hours to live, was an amused spectator and listener to what -followed. - -Giving his horse to a gendarme to hold, not stopping to brush the filth -from his person, the old man limped hurriedly to the wagon and began an -examination of the several packing cases, large and small, which -composed its load. Of one case he was especially solicitous, even trying -to lift it and seeming to listen as he lifted. - -He straightened up, on being addressed by one of the gendarmes, and made -voluble reply. - -“Me? Alas senors, I am an old man, and far from home. I am Leopoldo -Narvaez. It is true, my mother was German, may the Saints preserve her -rest; but my father was Baltazar de Jesus y Cervallos é Narvaez, son of -General Narvaez of martial memory, who fought under the great Bolivar -himself. And now I am half ruined and far from home.” - -Prompted by other questions, interlarded with the courteous expressions -of sympathy with which even the humblest _moso_ is over generously -supplied, he managed to be polite-fully grateful and to run on with his -tale. - -“I have driven from Bocas del Toro. It has taken me five days, and -business has been poor. My home is in Colon, and I wish I were safely -there. But even a noble Narvaez may be a peddler, and even a peddler -must live, eh, senors, is it not so? But tell me, is there not a Tomas -Romero who dwells in this pleasant city of San Antonio?” - -“There are any God’s number of Tomas Romeros who dwell everywhere in -Panama,” laughed Pedro Zurita, the assistant jailer. “One would need -fuller description.” - -“He is the cousin of my second wife,” the ancient answered hopefully, -and seemed bewildered by the roar of laughter from the crowd. - -“And a dozen Tomas Romeros live in and about San Antonio,” the assistant -jailer went on, “any one of which may be your second wife’s cousin, -Senor. There is Tomas Romero, the drunkard. There is Tomas Romero, the -thief. There is Tomas Romero—but no, he was hanged a month back for -murder and robbery. There is the rich Tomas Romero who owns many cattle -on the hills. There is....” - -To each suggested one, Leopoldo Narvaez had shaken his head dolefully, -until the cattle-owner was mentioned. At this he had become hopeful and -broke in: - -“Pardon me, senor, it must be he, or some such a one as he. I shall find -him. If my precious stock-in-trade can be safely stored, I shall seek -him now. It is well my misfortune came upon me where it did. I shall be -able to trust it with you, who are, one can see with half an eye, an -honest and an honorable man.” As he talked, he fumbled forth from his -pocket two silver pesos and handed them to the jailer. “There, I wish -you and your men to have some pleasure of assisting me.” - -Henry grinned to himself as he noted the access of interest in the old -man and of consideration for him, on the part of Pedro Zurita and the -gendarmes, caused by the present of the coins. They shoved the more -curious of the crowd roughly back from the wrecked wagon and began to -carry the boxes into the jail. - -“Careful, senors, careful,” the old one pleaded, greatly anxious, as -they took hold of the big box. “Handle it gently. It is of value, and it -is fragile, most fragile.” - -While the contents of the wagon were being carried into the jail, the -old man removed and deposited in the wagon all harness from the horse -save the bridle. - -Pedro Zurita ordered the harness taken in as well, explaining, with a -glare at the miserable crowd: “Not a strap or buckle would remain the -second after our backs were turned.” - -Using what was left of the wagon for a stepping block, and ably assisted -by the jailer and his crew, the peddler managed to get astride his -animal. - -“It is well,” he said, and added gratefully: “A thousand thanks, senors. -It has been my good fortune to meet with honest men with whom my goods -will be safe—only poor goods, peddler’s goods, you understand; but to -me, everything, my way upon the road. The pleasure has been mine to meet -you. To-morrow I shall return with my kinsman, whom I certainly shall -find, and relieve from you the burden of safeguarding my inconsiderable -property.” He doffed his hat. “Adios, senors, adios!” - -He rode away at a careful walk, timid of the animal he bestrode which -had caused his catastrophe. He halted and turned his head at a call from -Pedro Zurita. - -“Search the graveyard, Senor Narvaez,” the jailer advised. “Full a -hundred Tomas Romeros lie there.” - -“And be vigilant, I beg of you, senor, of the heavy box,” the peddler -called back. - -Henry watched the street grow deserted as the gendarmes and the populace -fled from the scorch of the sun. Small wonder, he thought to himself, -that the old peddler’s voice had sounded vaguely familiar. It had been -because he had possessed only half a Spanish tongue to twist around the -language—the other half being the German tongue of the mother. Even so, -he talked like a native, and he would be robbed like a native if there -was anything of value in the heavy box deposited with the jailers, Henry -concluded, ere dismissing the incident from his mind. - - * * * * * - -In the guardroom, a scant fifty feet away from Henry’s cell, Leopoldo -Narvaez was being robbed. It had begun by Pedro Zurita making a profound -and wistful survey of the large box. He lifted one end of it to sample -its weight, and sniffed like a hound at the crack of it as if his nose -might give him some message of its contents. - -“Leave it alone, Pedro,” one of the gendarmes laughed at him. “You have -been paid two pesos to be honest.” - -The assistant jailer sighed, walked away and sat down, looked back at -the box, and sighed again. Conversation languished. Continually the eyes -of the men roved to the box. A greasy pack of cards could not divert -them. The game languished. The gendarme who had twitted Pedro himself -went to the box and sniffed. - -“I smell nothing,” he announced. “Absolutely in the box there is nothing -to smell. Now what can it be? The caballero said that it was of value!” - -“Caballero!” sniffed another of the gendarmes. “The old man’s father was -more like to have been peddler of rotten fish on the streets of Colon -and his father before him. Every lying beggar claims descent from the -conquistadores.” - -“And why not, Rafael?” Pedro Zurita retorted. “Are we not all so -descended?” - -“Without doubt,” Rafael readily agreed. “The conquistadores slew many——” - -“And were the ancestors of those that survived,” Pedro completed for him -and aroused a general laugh. “Just the same, almost would I give one of -these pesos to know what is in that box.” - -“There is Ignacio,” Rafael greeted the entrance of a turnkey whose heavy -eyes tokened he was just out of his siesta. “He was not paid to be -honest. Come, Ignacio, relieve our curiosity by letting us know what is -in the box.” - -“How should I know?” Ignacio demanded, blinking at the object of -interest. “Only now have I awakened.” - -“You have not been paid to be honest, then?” Rafael asked. - -“Merciful Mother of God, who is the man who would pay me to be honest?” -the turnkey demanded. - -“Then take the hatchet there and open the box,” Rafael drove his point -home. “We may not, for as surely as Pedro is to share the two pesos with -us, that surely have we been paid to be honest. Open the box, Ignacio, -or we shall perish of our curiosity.” - -“We will look, we will only look,” Pedro muttered nervously, as the -turnkey prized off a board with the blade of the hatchet. “Then we will -close the box again and——Put your hand in, Ignacio. What is it you -find?... eh? what does it feel like? Ah!” - -After pulling and tugging, Ignacio’s hand had reappeared, clutching a -cardboard carton. - -“Remove it carefully, for it must be replaced,” the jailer cautioned. - -And when the wrappings of paper and tissue paper were removed, all eyes -focused on a quart bottle of rye whiskey. - -“How excellently is it composed,” Pedro murmured in tones of awe. “It -must be very good that such care be taken of it.” - -“It is Americano whiskey,” sighed a gendarme. “Once, only, have I drunk -Americano whiskey. It was wonderful. Such was the courage of it, that I -leaped into the bull-ring at Santos and faced a wild bull with my hands. -It is true, the bull rolled me, but did I not leap into the ring?” - -Pedro took the bottle and prepared to knock its neck off. - -“Hold!” cried Rafael. “You were paid to be honest.” - -“By a man who was not himself honest,” came the retort. “The stuff is -contraband. It has never paid duty. The old man was in possession of -smuggled goods. Let us now gratefully and with clear conscience invest -ourselves in its possession. We will confiscate it. We will destroy it.” - -Not waiting for the bottle to pass, Ignacio and Rafael unwrapped fresh -ones and broke off the necks. - -“Three stars—most excellent,” Pedro Zurita orated in a pause, pointing -to the trade mark. “You see, all Gringo whiskey is good. One star shows -that it is very good; two stars that it is excellent; three stars that -it is superb, the best, and better than beyond that. Ah, I know. The -Gringos are strong on strong drink. No pulque for them.” - -“And four stars?” queried Ignacio, his voice husky from the liquor, the -moisture glistening in his eyes. - -“Four stars? Friend Ignacio, four stars would be either sudden death or -translation into paradise.” - -In not many minutes, Rafael, his arm around another gendarme, was -calling him brother and proclaiming that it took little to make men -happy here below. - -“The old man was a fool, three times a fool, and thrice that,” -volunteered Augustino, a sullen-faced gendarme, who for the first time -gave tongue to speech. - -“Viva Augustino!” cheered Rafael. “The three stars have worked a -miracle. Behold! Have they not unlocked Augustino’s mouth?” - -“And thrice times thrice again was the old man a fool!” Augustino -bellowed fiercely. “The very drink of the gods was his, all his, and he -has been five days alone with it on the road from Bocas del Toro, and -never taken one little sip. Such fools as he should be stretched out -naked on an ant-heap, say I.” - -“The old man was a rogue,” quoth Pedro. “And when he comes back -to-morrow for his three stars I shall arrest him for a smuggler. It will -be a feather in all our caps.” - -“If we destroy the evidence—thus?” queried Augustino, knocking off -another neck. - -“We will save the evidence—thus!” Pedro replied, smashing an empty -bottle on the stone flags. “Listen, comrades. The box was very heavy—we -are all agreed. It fell. The bottles broke. The liquor ran out, and so -were we made aware of the contraband. The box and the broken bottles -will be evidence sufficient.” - -The uproar grew as the liquor diminished. One gendarme quarreled with -Ignacio over a forgotten debt of ten centavos. Two others sat upon the -floor, arms around each other’s necks, and wept over the miseries of -their married lot. Augustino, like a very spendthrift of speech, -explained his philosophy that silence was golden. And Pedro Zurita -became sentimental on brotherhood. - -“Even my prisoners,” he maundered. “I love them as brothers. Life is -sad.” A gush of tears in his eyes made him desist while he took another -drink. “My prisoners are my very children. My heart bleeds for them. -Behold! I weep. Let us share with them. Let them have a moment’s -happiness. Ignacio, dearest brother of my heart. Do me a favor. See, I -weep on your hand. Carry a bottle of this elixir to the Gringo Morgan. -Tell him my sorrow that he must hang to-morrow. Give him my love and bid -him drink and be happy to-day.” - -And as Ignacio passed out on the errand, the gendarme who had once leapt -into the bull-ring at Santos, began roaring: - -“I want a bull! I want a bull!” - -“He wants it, dear soul, that he may put his arms around it and love -it,” Pedro Zurita explained, with a fresh access of weeping. “I, too, -love bulls. I love all things. I love even mosquitoes. All the world is -love. That is the secret of the world. I should like to have a lion to -play with....” - - * * * * * - -The unmistakable air of “Back to Back Against the Mainmast” being -whistled openly in the street, caught Henry’s attention, and he was -crossing his big cell to the window when the grating of a key in the -door made him lie down quickly on the floor and feign sleep. Ignacio -staggered drunkenly in, bottle in hand, which he gravely presented to -Henry. - -“With the high compliments of our good jailer, Pedro Zurita,” he -mumbled. “He says to drink and forget that he must stretch your neck -to-morrow.” - -“My high compliments to Senor Pedro Zurita, and tell him from me to go -to hell along with his whiskey,” Henry replied. - -The turnkey straightened up and ceased swaying, as if suddenly become -sober. - -“Very well, senor,” he said, then passed out and locked the door. - -In a rush Henry was at the window just in time to encounter Francis face -to face and thrusting a revolver to him through the bars. - -“Greetings, camarada,” Francis said. “We’ll have you out of here in a -jiffy.” He held up two sticks of dynamite, with fuse and caps complete. -“I have brought this pretty crowbar to pry you out. Stand well back in -your cell, because real pronto there’s going to be a hole in this wall -that we could sail the _Angelique_ through. And the _Angelique_ is right -off the beach waiting for you.—Now, stand back. I’m going to touch her -off. It’s a short fuse.” - -Hardly had Henry backed into a rear corner of his cell, when the door -was clumsily unlocked and opened to a babel of cries and imprecations, -chiefest among which he could hear the ancient and invariable war-cry of -Latin-America, “Kill the Gringo!” - -Also, he could hear Rafael and Pedro, as they entered, babbling, the -one: “He is the enemy of brotherly love”; and the other, “He said I was -to go to hell—is not that what he said, Ignacio?” - -In their hands they carried rifles, and behind them urged the drunken -rabble, variously armed, from cutlasses and horse-pistols to hatchets -and bottles. At sight of Henry’s revolver, they halted, and Pedro, -fingering his rifle unsteadily, maundered solemnly: - -“Senor Morgan, you are about to take up your rightful abode in hell.” - -But Ignacio did not wait. He fired wildly and widely from his hip, -missing Henry by half the width of the cell and going down the next -moment under the impact of Henry’s bullet. The rest retreated -precipitately into the jail corridor, where, themselves unseen, they -began discharging their weapons into the room. - -Thanking his fortunate stars for the thickness of the walls, and hoping -no ricochet would get him, Henry sheltered in a protecting angle and -waited for the explosion. - -It came. The window and the wall beneath it became all one aperture. -Struck on the head by a flying fragment, Henry sank down dizzily, and, -as the dust of the mortar and the powder cleared, with wavering eyes he -saw Francis apparently swim through the hole. By the time he had been -dragged out through the hole, Henry was himself again. He could see -Enrico Solano and Ricardo, his youngest born, rifles in hand, holding -back the crowd forming up the street, while the twins, Alvarado and -Martinez, similarly held back the crowd forming down the street. - -But the populace was merely curious, having its lives to lose and -nothing to gain if it attempted to block the way of such masterful men -as these who blew up walls and stormed jails in open day. And it gave -back respectfully before the compact group as it marched down the -street. - -“The horses are waiting up the next alley,” Francis told Henry, as they -gripped hands. “And Leoncia is waiting with them. Fifteen minutes’ -gallop will take us to the beach, where the boat is waiting.” - -“Say, that was some song I taught you,” Henry grinned. “It sounded like -the very best little bit of all right when I heard you whistling it. The -dogs were so previous they couldn’t wait till to-morrow to hang me. They -got full of whiskey and decided to finish me off right away. Funny thing -that whiskey. An old caballero turned peddler wrecked a wagon-load of it -right in front of the jail——” - -“For even a noble Narvaez, son of Baltazar de Jesus y Cervallos è -Narvaez, son of General Narvaez of martial memory, may be a peddler, and -even a peddler must live, eh, senors, is it not so?” Francis mimicked. - -Henry looked his gleeful recognition, and added soberly: - -“Francis, I’m glad for one thing, most damn glad....” - -“Which is?” Francis queried in the pause, just as they swung around the -corner to the horses. - -“That I didn’t cut off your ears that day on the Calf when I had you -down and you insisted.” - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -Mariano Vercara e Hijos, Jefe Politico of San Antonio, leaned back in -his chair in the courtroom and with a quiet smile of satisfaction -proceeded to roll a cigarette. The case had gone through as prearranged. -He had kept the little old judge away from his _mescal_ all day, and had -been rewarded by having the judge try the case and give judgment -according to program. He had not made a slip. The six peons, fined -heavily, were ordered back to the plantation at Santos. The working out -of the fines was added to the time of their contract slavery. And the -Jefe was two hundred dollars good American gold richer for the -transaction. Those Gringos at Santos, he smiled to himself, were men to -tie to. True, they were developing the country with their _henequen_ -plantation. But, better than that, they possessed money in untold -quantity and paid well for such little services as he might be able to -render. - -His smile was even broader as he greeted Alvarez Torres. - -“Listen,” said the latter, whispering low in his ear. “We can get both -these devils of Morgans. The Henry pig hangs to-morrow. There is no -reason that the Francis pig should not go out to-day.” - -The Jefe remained silent, questioning with a lift of his eyebrows. - -“I have advised him to storm the jail. The Solanos have listened to his -lies and are with him. They will surely attempt to do it this evening. -They could not do it sooner. It is for you to be ready for the event, -and to see to it that Francis Morgan is especially shot and killed in -the fight.” - -“For what and for why?” the Jefe temporised. “It is Henry I want to see -out of the way. Let the Francis one go back to his beloved New York.” - -“He must go out to-day, and for reasons you will appreciate. As you -know, from reading my telegrams through the government wireless——” - -“Which was our agreement for my getting you your permission to use the -government station,” the Jefe reminded. - -“And of which I do not complain,” Torres assured him. “But as I was -saying, you know my relations with the New York Regan are confidential -and important.” He touched his hand to his breast pocket. “I have just -received another wire. It is imperative that the Francis pig be kept -away from New York for a month—if forever, and I do not misunderstand -Senor Regan, so much the better. In so far as I succeed in this, will -you fare well.” - -“But you have not told me how much you have received, nor how much you -will receive,” the Jefe probed. - -“It is a private agreement, and it is not so much as you may fancy. He -is a hard man, this Senor Regan, a hard man. Yet will I divide fairly -with you out of the success of our venture.” - -The Jefe nodded acquiescence, then said: - -“Will it be as much as a thousand gold you will get?” - -“I think so. Surely the pig of an Irish stock-gambler could pay me no -less a sum, and five hundred is yours if pig Francis leaves his bones in -San Antonio.” - -“Will it be as much as a hundred thousand gold?” was the Jefe’s next -query. - -Torres laughed as if at a joke. - -“It must be more than a thousand,” the other persisted. - -“And he may be generous,” Torres responded. “He may even give me five -hundred over the thousand, half of which, naturally, as I have said, -will be yours as well.” - -“I shall go from here immediately to the jail,” the Jefe announced. “You -may trust me, Senor Torres, as I trust you. Come. We will go at once, -now, you and I, and you may see for yourself the preparation I shall -make for this Francis Morgan’s reception. I have not yet lost my cunning -with a rifle. And, as well, I shall tell off three of the gendarmes to -fire only at him. So this Gringo dog would storm our jail, eh? Come. We -will depart at once.” - -He stood up, tossing his cigarette away with a show of determined -energy. But, half way across the room, a ragged boy, panting and -sweating, plucked his sleeve and whined: - -“I have information. You will pay me for it, most high Senor? I have run -all the way.” - -“I’ll have you sent to San Juan for the buzzards to peck your carcass -for the worthless carrion that you are,” was the reply. - -The boy quailed at the threat, then summoned courage from his emptiness -of belly and meagerness of living and from his desire for the price of a -ticket to the next bull-fight. - -“You will remember I brought you the information, Senor. I ran all the -way until I am almost dead, as you can behold, Senor. I will tell you, -but you will remember it was I who ran all the way and told you first.” - -“Yes, yes, animal, I will remember. But woe to you if I remember too -well. What is the trifling information? It may not be worth a centavo. -And if it isn’t I’ll make you sorry the sun ever shone on you. And -buzzard-picking of you at San Juan will be paradise compared with what I -shall visit on you.” - -“The jail,” the boy quavered. “The strange Gringo, the one who was to be -hanged yesterday, has blown down the side of the jail. Merciful Saints! -The hole is as big as the steeple of the cathedral! And the other -Gringo, the one who looks like him, the one who was to hang to-morrow, -has escaped with him out of the hole. He dragged him out of the hole -himself. This I saw, myself, with my two eyes, and then I ran here to -you all the way, and you will remember....” - -But the Jefe Politico had already turned on Torres witheringly. - -“And if this Senor Regan be princely generous, he may give you and me -the munificent sum that was mentioned, eh? Five times the sum, or ten -times, with this Gringo tiger blowing down law and order and our good -jail-walls, would be nearer the mark.” - -“At any rate, the thing must be a false alarm, merely the straw that -shows which way blows the wind of this Francis Morgan’s intention,” -Torres murmured with a sickly smile. “Remember, the suggestion was mine -to him to storm the jail.” - -“In which case you and Senor Regan will pay for the good jail wall?” the -Jefe demanded, then, with a pause, added: “Not that I believe it has -been accomplished. It is not possible. Even a fool Gringo would not -dare.” - -Rafael, the gendarme, rifle in hand, the blood still oozing down his -face from a scalp-wound, came through the courtroom door and shouldered -aside the curious ones who had begun to cluster around Torres and the -Jefe. - -“We are devastated,” were Rafael’s first words. “The jail is ‘most -destroyed. Dynamite! A hundred pounds of it! A thousand! We came bravely -to save the jail. But it exploded—the thousand pounds of dynamite. I -fell unconscious, rifle in hand. When sense came back to me, I looked -about. All others, the brave Pedro, the brave Ignacio, the brave -Augustino—all, all, lay around me dead!” Almost could he have added, -“drunk”; but, his Latin-American nature so compounded, he sincerely -stated the catastrophe as it most valiantly and tragically presented -itself to his imagination. “They lay dead. They may not be dead, but -merely stunned. I crawled. The cell of the Gringo Morgan was empty. -There was a huge and monstrous hole in the wall. I crawled through the -hole into the street. There was a great crowd. But the Gringo Morgan was -gone. I talked with a moso who had seen and who knew. They had horses -waiting. They rode toward the beach. There is a schooner that is not -anchored. It sails back and forth waiting for them. The Francis Morgan -rides with a sack of gold on his saddle. The moso saw it. It is a large -sack.” - -“And the hole?” the Jefe demanded. “The hole in the wall?” - -“Is larger than the sack, much larger,” was Rafael’s reply. “But the -sack is large. So the moso said. And he rides with it on his saddle.” - -“My jail!” the Jefe cried. He slipped a dagger from inside his coat -under the left arm-pit and held it aloft by the blade so that the hilt -showed as a true cross on which a finely modeled Christ hung crucified. -“I swear by all the Saints the vengeance I shall have. My jail! Our -justice! Our law!——Horses! Horses! Gendarme, horses!” He whirled about -upon Torres as if the latter had spoken, shouting: “To hell with Senor -Regan! I am after my own! I have been defied! My jail is desolated! My -law—our law, good friends—has been mocked. Horses! Horses! Commandeer -them on the streets. Haste! Haste!” - - * * * * * - -Captain Trefethen, owner of the _Angelique_, son of a Maya Indian mother -and a Jamaica negro father, paced the narrow after-deck of his schooner, -stared shoreward toward San Antonio, where he could make out his crowded -long-boat returning, and meditated flight from his mad American -charterer. At the same time he meditated remaining in order to break his -charter and give a new one at three times the price; for he was -strangely torn by his conflicting bloods. The negro portion counseled -prudence and observance of Panamanian law. The Indian portion was urgent -to unlawfulness and the promise of conflict. - -It was the Indian mother who decided the issue and made him draw his -jib, ease his mainsheet, and begin to reach in-shore the quicker to pick -up the oncoming boat. When he made out the rifles carried by the Solanos -and the Morgans, almost he put up his helm to run for it and leave them. -When he made out a woman in the boat’s sternsheets, romance and thrift -whispered in him to hang on and take the boat on board. For he knew -wherever women entered into the transactions of men that peril and pelf -as well entered hand in hand. - -And aboard came the woman, the peril and the pelf—Leoncia, the rifles, -and a sack of money—all in a scramble; for, the wind being light, the -captain had not bothered to stop way on the schooner. - -“Glad to welcome you on board, sir,” Captain Trefethen greeted Francis -with a white slash of teeth between his smiling lips. “But who is this -man?” He nodded his head to indicate Henry. - -“A friend, captain, a guest of mine, in fact, a kinsman.” - -“And who, sir, may I make bold to ask, are those gentlemen riding along -the beach in fashion so lively?” - -Henry looked quickly at the group of horsemen galloping along the sand, -unceremoniously took the binoculars from the skipper’s hand, and gazed -through them. - -“It’s the Jefe himself in the lead,” he reported to Leoncia and her -menfolk, “with a bunch of gendarmes.” He uttered a sharp exclamation, -stared through the glasses intently, then shook his head. “Almost I -thought I made out our friend Torres.” - -“With our enemies!” Leoncia cried incredulously, remembering Torres’ -proposal of marriage and proffer of service and honor that very day on -the hacienda piazza. - -“I must have been mistaken,” Francis acknowledged. “They are riding so -bunched together. But it’s the Jefe all right, two jumps ahead of the -outfit.” - -“Who is this Torres duck?” Henry asked harshly. “I’ve never liked his -looks from the first, yet he seems always welcome under your roof, -Leoncia.” - -“I beg your parson, sir, most gratifiedly, and with my humilius -respects,” Captain Trefethen interrupted suavely. “But I must call your -attention to the previous question, sir, which is: who and what is that -cavalcade disporting itself with such earnestness along the sand?” - -“They tried to hang me yesterday,” Francis laughed. “And to-morrow they -were going to hang my kinsman there. Only we beat them to it. And here -we are. Now, Mr. Skipper, I call your attention to your head-sheets -flapping in the wind. You are standing still. How much longer do you -expect to stick around here?” - -“Mr. Morgan, sir,” came the answer, “it is with dumbfounded respect that -I serve you as the charterer of my vessel. Nevertheless, I must inform -you that I am a British subject. King George is my king, sir, and I owe -obedience first of all to him and to his laws of maritime between all -nations, sir. It is lucid to my comprehension that you have broken laws -ashore, or else the officers ashore would not be so assiduously in quest -of you, sir. And it is also lucid to clarification that it is now your -wish to have me break the laws of maritime by enabling you to escape. -So, in honor bound, I must stick around here until this little -difficulty that you may have appertained ashore is adjusted to the -satisfaction of all parties concerned, sir, and to the satisfaction of -my lawful sovereign.” - -“Fill away and get out of this, skipper!” Henry broke in angrily. - -“Sir, assuring you of your gratification of pardon, it is my unpleasant -task to inform you of two things. Neither are you my charterer; nor are -you the noble King George to whom I give ambitious allegiance.” - -“Well, I’m your charterer, skipper,” Francis said pleasantly, for he had -learned to humor the man of mixed words and parentage. “So just kindly -put up your helm and sail us out of this Chiriqui Lagoon as fast as God -and this failing wind will let you.” - -“It is not in the charter, sir, that my _Angelique_ shall break the laws -of Panama and King George.” - -“I’ll pay you well,” Francis retorted, beginning to lose his temper. -“Get busy.” - -“You will then recharter, sir, at three times the present charter?” - -Francis nodded shortly. - -“Then wait, sir, I entreat. I must procure pen and paper from the cabin -and make out the document.” - -“Oh, Lord,” Francis groaned. “Square away and get a move on first. We -can make out the paper just as easily while we are running as standing -still. Look! They are beginning to fire.” - -The half-breed captain heard the report, and, searching his spread -canvas, discovered the hole of the bullet high up near the peak of the -mainsail. - -“Very well, sir,” he conceded. “You are a gentleman and an honorable -man. I trust you to affix your signature to the document at your early -convenience——Hey, you nigger! Put up your wheel! Hard up! Jump, you -black rascals, and slack away mainsheet! Take a hand there, you, -Percival, on the boom-tackle!” - -All obeyed, as did Percival, a grinning shambling Kingston negro who was -as black as his name was white, and as did another, addressed more -respectfully as Juan, who was more Spanish and Indian than negro, as his -light yellow skin attested, and whose fingers, slacking the foresheet, -were as slim and delicate as a girl’s. - -“Knock the nigger on the head if he keeps up this freshness,” Henry -growled in an undertone to Francis. “For two cents I’ll do it right -now.” - -But Francis shook his head. - -“He’s all right, but he’s a Jamaica nigger, and you know what they are. -And he’s Indian as well. We might as well humor him, since it’s the -nature of the beast. He means all right, but he wants the money, he’s -risking his schooner against confiscation, and he’s afflicted with -_vocabularitis_. He just must get those long words out of his system or -else bust.” - -Here Enrico Solano, with quivering nostrils and fingers restless on his -rifle as with half an eye he kept track of the wild shots being fired -from the beach, approached Henry and held out his hand. - -“I have been guilty of a grave mistake, Senor Morgan,” he said. “In the -first hurt of my affliction at the death of my beloved brother, Alfaro, -I was guilty of thinking you guilty of his murder.” Here old Enrico’s -eyes flashed with anger consuming but unconsumable. “For murder it was, -dastardly and cowardly, a thrust in the dark in the back. I should have -known better. But I was overwhelmed, and the evidence was all against -you. I did not take pause of thought to consider that my dearly beloved -and only daughter was betrothed to you; to remember that all I had known -of you was straightness and man-likeness and courage such as never stabs -from behind the shield of the dark. I regret. I am sorry. And I am proud -once again to welcome you into my family as the husband-to-be of my -Leoncia.” - -And while this whole-hearted restoration of Henry Morgan into the Solano -family went on, Leoncia was irritated because her father, in -Latin-American fashion, must use so many fine words and phrases, when a -single phrase, a handgrip, and a square look in the eyes were all that -was called for and was certainly all that either Henry or Francis would -have vouchsafed had the situation been reversed. Why, why, she asked of -herself, must her Spanish stock, in such extravagance of diction, seem -to emulate the similar extravagance of the Jamaica negro? - -While this reiteration of the betrothal of Henry and Leoncia was taking -place, Francis, striving to appear uninterested, could not help taking -note of the pale-yellow sailor called Juan, conferring for’ard with -others of the crew, shrugging his shoulders significantly, gesticulating -passionately with his hands. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -“And now we’ve lost both the Gringo pigs,” Alvarez Torres lamented on -the beach as, with a slight freshening of the breeze and with booms -winged out to port and starboard, the _Angelique_ passed out of range of -their rifles. - -“Almost would I give three bells to the cathedral,” Mariano Vercara è -Hijos proclaimed, “to have them within a hundred yards of this rifle. -And if I had will of all Gringos they would depart so fast that the -devil in hell would be compelled to study English.” - -Alvarez Torres beat the saddle pommel with his hand in sheer impotence -of rage and disappointment. - -“The Queen of my Dreams!” he almost wept. “She is gone and away, off -with the two Morgans. I saw her climb up the side of the schooner. And -there is the New York Regan. Once out of Chiriqui Lagoon, the schooner -may sail directly to New York. And the Francis pig will not have been -delayed a month, and the Senor Regan will remit no money.” - -“They will not get out of Chiriqui Lagoon,” the Jefe said solemnly. “I -am no animal without reason. I am a man. I know they will not get out. -Have I not sworn eternal vengeance? The sun is setting, and the promise -is for a night of little wind. The sky tells it to one with half an eye. -Behold those trailing wisps of clouds. What wind may be, and little -enough of that, will come from the north-east. It will be a head beat to -the Chorrera Passage. They will not attempt it. That nigger captain -knows the lagoon like a book. He will try to make the long tack and go -out past Bocas del Toro, or through the Cartago Passage. Even so, we -will outwit him. I have brains, reason. Reason. Listen. It is a long -ride. We will make it—straight down the coast to Las Palmas. Captain -Rosaro is there with the _Dolores_.” - -“The second-hand old tugboat?—that cannot get out of her own way?” -Torres queried. - -“But this night of calm and morrow of calm she will capture the -_Angelique_,” the Jefe replied. “On, comrades! We will ride! Captain -Rosaro is my friend. Any favor is but mine to ask.” - -At daylight, the worn-out men, on beaten horses, straggled through the -decaying village of Las Palmas and down to the decaying pier, where a -very decayed-looking tugboat, sadly in need of paint, welcomed their -eyes. Smoke rising from the stack advertised that steam was up, and the -Jefe was wearily elated. - -“A happy morning, Senor Capitan Rosaro, and well met,” he greeted the -hard-bitten Spanish skipper, who was reclined on a coil of rope and who -sipped black coffee from a mug that rattled against his teeth. - -“It would be a happier morning if the cursed fever had not laid its -chill upon me,” Captain Rosaro grunted sourly, the hand that held the -mug, the arm, and all his body shivering so violently as to spill the -hot liquid down his chin and into the black-and-gray thatch of hair that -covered his half-exposed chest. “Take that, you animal of hell!” he -cried, flinging mug and contents at a splinter of a half-breed boy, -evidently his servant, who had been unable to repress his glee. - -“But the sun will rise and the fever will work its will and shortly -depart,” said the Jefe, politely ignoring the display of spleen. “And -you are finished here, and you are bound for Bocas del Toro, and we -shall go with you, all of us, on a rare adventure. We will pick up the -schooner _Angelique_, calm-bound all last night in the lagoon, and I -shall make many arrests, and all Panama will so ring with your courage -and ability, Capitan, that you will forget that the fever ever whispered -in you.” - -“How much?” Capitan Rosaro demanded bluntly. - -“Much?” the Jefe countered in surprise. “This is an affair of -government, good friend. And it is right on your way to Bocas del Toro. -It will not cost you an extra shovelful of coal.” - -“Muchacho! More coffee!” the tug-skipper roared at the boy. - -A pause fell, wherein Torres and the Jefe and all the draggled following -yearned for the piping hot coffee brought by the boy. Captain Rosaro -played the rim of the mug against his teeth like a rattling of -castanets, but managed to sip without spilling and so to burn his mouth. - -A vacant-faced Swede, in filthy overalls, with a soiled cap on which -appeared “Engineer,” came up from below, lighted a pipe, and seemingly -went into a trance as he sat on the tug’s low rail. - -“How much?” Captain Rosaro repeated. - -“Let us get under way, dear friend,” said the Jefe. “And then, when the -fever-shock has departed, we will discuss the matter with reason, being -reasonable creatures ourselves and not animals.” - -“How much?” Captain Rosaro repeated again. “I am never an animal. I -always am a creature of reason, whether the sun is up or not up, or -whether this thrice-accursed fever is upon me. How much?” - -“Well, let us start, and for how much?” the Jefe conceded wearily. - -“Fifty dollars gold,” was the prompt answer. - -“You are starting anyway, are you not, Capitan?” Torres queried softly. - -“Fifty——gold, as I have said.” - -The Jefe Politico threw up his hands with a hopeless gesture and turned -on his heel to depart. - -“Yet you swore eternal vengeance for the crime committed on your jail,” -Torres reminded him. - -“But not if it costs fifty dollars,” the Jefe snapped back, out of the -corner of his eye watching the shivering captain for some sign of -relenting. - -“Fifty gold,” said the Captain, as he finished draining the mug and with -shaking fingers strove to roll a cigarette. He nodded his head in the -direction of the Swede, and added, “and five gold extra for my engineer. -It is our custom.” - -Torres stepped closer to the Jefe and whispered: - -“I will pay for the tug myself and charge the Gringo Regan a hundred, -and you and I will divide the difference. We lose nothing. We shall -make. For this Regan pig instructed me well not to mind expense.” - -As the sun slipped brazenly above the eastern horizon, one gendarme went -back into Las Palmas with the jaded horses, the rest of the party -descended to the deck of the tug, the Swede dived down into the -engine-room, and Captain Rosaro, shaking off his chill in the sun’s -beneficent rays, ordered the deck-hands to cast off the lines, and put -one of them at the wheel in the pilot-house. - - * * * * * - -And the same day-dawn found the _Angelique_, after a night of almost -perfect calm, off the mainland from which she had failed to get away, -although she had made sufficient northing to be midway between San -Antonio and the passages of Bocas del Toro and Cartago. These two -passages to the open sea still lay twenty-five miles away, and the -schooner truly slept on the mirror surface of the placid lagoon. Too -stuffy below for sleep in the steaming tropics, the deck was littered -with the sleepers. On top the small house of the cabin, in solitary -state, lay Leoncia. On the narrow runways of deck on either side lay her -brothers and her father. Aft, between the cabin companionway and the -wheel, side by side, Francis’ arm across Henry’s shoulder, as if still -protecting him, were the two Morgans. On one side of the wheel, sitting, -with arms on knees and head on arms, the negro-Indian skipper slept, and -just as precisely postured, on the other side of the wheel, slept the -helmsman, who was none other than Percival, the black Kingston negro. -The waist of the schooner was strewn with the bodies of the mixed-breed -seamen, while for’ard, on the tiny forecastlehead, prone, his face -buried upon his folded arms, slept the lookout. - -Leoncia, in her high place on the cabin-top, awoke first. Propping her -head on her hand, the elbow resting on a bit of the poncho on which she -lay, she looked down past one side of the hood of the companionway upon -the two young men. She yearned over them, who were so alike, and knew -love for both of them, remembered the kisses of Henry on her mouth, -thrilled till the blush of her own thoughts mantled her cheek at memory -of the kisses of Francis, and was puzzled and amazed that she should -have it in her to love two men at the one time. As she had already -learned of herself, she would follow Henry to the end of the world and -Francis even farther. And she could not understand such wantonness of -inclination. - -Fleeing from her own thoughts, which frightened her, she stretched out -her arm and dangled the end of her silken scarf to a tickling of -Francis’ nose, who, after restless movements, still in the heaviness of -sleep, struck with his hand at what he must have thought to be a -mosquito or a fly, and hit Henry on the chest. So it was Henry who was -first awakened. He sat up with such abruptness as to awaken Francis. - -“Good morning, merry kinsman,” Francis greeted. “Why such violence?” - -“Morning, morning, and the morning’s morning, comrade,” Henry muttered. -“Such was the violence of your sleep that it was you who awakened me -with a buffet on my breast. I thought it was the hangman, for this is -the morning they planned to kink my neck.” He yawned, stretched his -arms, gazed out over the rail at the sleeping sea, and nudged Francis to -observance of the sleeping skipper and helmsman. - -They looked so bonny, the pair of Morgans, Leoncia thought; and at the -same time wondered why the English word had arisen unsummoned in her -mind rather than a Spanish equivalent. Was it because her heart went out -so generously to the two Gringos that she must needs think of them in -their language instead of her own? - -To escape the perplexity of her thoughts, she dangled the scarf again, -was discovered, and laughingly confessed that it was she who had caused -their violence of waking. - -Three hours later, breakfast of coffee and fruit over, she found herself -at the wheel taking her first lesson of steering and of the compass -under Francis’ tuition. The _Angelique_, under a crisp little breeze -which had hauled around well to north’ard, was for the moment heeling it -through the water at a six-knot clip. Henry, swaying on the weather side -of the after-deck and searching the sea through the binoculars, was -striving to be all unconcerned at the lesson, although secretly he was -mutinous with himself for not having first thought of himself -introducing her to the binnacle and the wheel. Yet he resolutely -refrained from looking around or from even stealing a corner-of-the-eye -glance at the other two. - -But Captain Trefethen, with the keen cruelty of Indian curiosity and the -impudence of a negro subject of King George, knew no such delicacy. He -stared openly and missed nothing of the chemic drawing together of his -charterer and the pretty Spanish girl. When they leaned over the wheel -to look into the binnacle, they leaned toward each other and Leoncia’s -hair touched Francis’ cheek. And the three of them, themselves and the -breed skipper, knew the thrill induced by such contact. But the man and -woman knew immediately what the breed skipper did not know, and what -they knew was embarrassment. Their eyes lifted to each other in a flash -of mutual startlement, and drooped away and down guiltily. Francis -talked very fast and loud enough for half the schooner to hear, as he -explained the lubber’s point of the compass. But Captain Trefethen -grinned. - -A rising puff of breeze made Francis put the wheel up. His hand to the -spoke rested on her hand already upon it. Again they thrilled, and again -the skipper grinned. - -Leoncia’s eyes lifted to Francis’, then dropped in confusion. She -slipped her hand out from under and terminated the lesson by walking -slowly away with a fine assumption of casualness, as if the wheel and -the binnacle no longer interested her. But she had left Francis afire -with what he knew was lawlessness and treason as he glanced at Henry’s -shoulder and profile and hoped he had not seen what had occurred. -Leoncia, apparently gazing off across the lagoon to the jungle-clad -shore, was seeing nothing as she thoughtfully turned her engagement ring -around and around on her finger. - -But Henry, turning to tell them of the smudge of smoke he had discovered -on the horizon, had inadvertently seen. And the negro-Indian captain had -seen him see. So the captain lurched close to him, the cruelty of the -Indian dictating the impudence of the negro, as he said in a low voice: - -“Ah, be not downcast, sir. The senorita is generously hearted. There is -room for both you gallant gentlemen in her heart.” - -And the next fraction of a second he learned the inevitable and -invariable lesson that white men must have their privacy of intimate -things; for he lay on his back, the back of his head sore from contact -with the deck, the front of his head, between the eyes, sore from -contact with the knuckles of Henry Morgan’s right hand. - -But the Indian in the skipper was up and raging as he sprang to his -feet, knife in hand. Juan, the pale-yellow mixed breed, leaped to the -side of his skipper flourishing another knife, while several of the -nearer sailors joined in forming a semi-circle of attack on Henry, who, -with a quick step back and an upward slap of his hand, under the -pin-rail, caused an iron belaying pin to leap out and up into the air. -Catching it in mid-flight, he was prepared to defend himself. Francis, -abandoning the wheel and drawing his automatic as he sprang, was through -the circle and by the side of Henry. - -“What did he say?” Francis demanded of his kinsman. - -“I’ll say what I said,” the breed skipper threatened, the negro side of -him dominant as he built for a compromise of blackmail. “I said——” - -“Hold on, skipper!” Henry interrupted. “I’m sorry I struck you. Hold -your hush. Put a stopper on your jaw. Saw wood. Forget. I’m sorry I -struck you. I....” Henry Morgan could not help the pause in speech -during which he swallowed his gorge rising at what he was about to say. -And it was because of Leoncia, and because she was looking on and -listening, that he said it. “I ... I apologize, skipper.” - -“It is an injury,” Captain Trefethen stated aggrievedly. “It is a -physical damage. No man can perpetrate a physical damage on a subject of -King George’s, God bless him, without furnishing a money requital.” - -At this crass statement of the terms of the blackmail, Henry was for -forgetting himself and for leaping upon the creature. But, restrained by -Francis’ hand on his shoulder, he struggled to self-control, made a -noise like hearty laughter, dipped into his pocket for two ten-dollar -gold-pieces, and, as if they stung him, thrust them into Captain -Trefethen’s palm. - -“Cheap at the price,” he could not help muttering aloud. - -“It is a good price,” the skipper averred. “Twenty gold is always a good -price for a sore head. I am yours to command, sir. You are a sure-enough -gentleman. You may hit me any time for the price.” - -“Me, sir, me!” the Kingston black named Percival volunteered with broad -and prideless chucklings of subservience. “Take a swat at me, sir, for -the same price, any time, now. And you may swat me as often as you -please to pay....” - -But the episode was destined to terminate at that instant, for at that -instant a sailor called from amidships: - -“Smoke! A steamer-smoke dead aft!” - -The passage of an hour determined the nature and import of the smoke, -for the _Angelique_, falling into a calm, was overhauled with such -rapidity that the tugboat _Dolores_, at half a mile distance through the -binoculars, was seen fairly to bristle with armed men crowded on her -tiny for’ard deck. Both Henry and Francis could recognize the faces of -the Jefe Politico and of several of the gendarmes. - -Old Enrico Solano’s nostrils began to dilate, as, with his four sons who -were aboard, he stationed them aft with him and prepared for the battle. -Leoncia, divided between Henry and Francis, was secretly distracted, -though outwardly she joined in laughter at the unkemptness of the little -tug, and in glee at a flaw of wind that tilted the _Angelique’s_ port -rail flush to the water and foamed her along at a nine-knot clip. - -But weather and wind were erratic. The face of the lagoon was vexed with -squalls and alternate streaks of calm. - -“We cannot escape, sir, I regret to inform you,” Captain Trefethen -informed Francis. “If the wind would hold, sir, yes. But the wind -baffles and breaks. We are crowded down upon the mainland. We are -cornered, sir, and as good as captured.” - -Henry, who had been studying the near shore through the glasses, lowered -them and looked at Francis. - -“Shout!” cried the latter. “You have a scheme. It’s sticking out all -over you. Name it.” - -“Right there are the two _Tigres_ islands,” Henry elucidated. “They -guard the narrow entrance to Juchitan Inlet, which is called El Tigre. -Oh, it has the teeth of a tiger, believe me. On either side of them, -between them and the shore, it is too shoal to float a whaleboat unless -you know the winding channels, which I do know. But between them is deep -water, though the El Tigre Passage is so pinched that there is no room -to come about. A schooner can only run it with the wind abaft or abeam. -Now, the wind favors. We will run it. Which is only half my scheme——” - -“And if the wind baffles or fails, sir—and the tide of the inlet runs -out and in like a race, as I well know—my beautiful schooner will go on -the rocks,” Captain Trefethen protested. - -“For which, if it happens, I will pay you full value,” Francis assured -him shortly and brushed him aside. “—And now, Henry, what’s the other -half of your scheme?” - -“I’m ashamed to tell you,” Henry laughed. “But it will be provocative of -more Spanish swearing than has been heard in Chiriqui Lagoon since old -Sir Henry sacked San Antonio and Bocas del Toro. You just watch.” - -Leoncia clapped her hands, as with sparkling eyes she cried: - -“It must be good, Henry. I can see it by your face. You must tell _me_.” - -And, aside, his arm around her to steady her on the reeling deck, Henry -whispered closely in her ear, while Francis, to hide his perturbation at -the sight of them, made shift through the binoculars to study the faces -on the pursuing tug. Captain Trefethen grinned maliciously and exchanged -significant glances with the pale-yellow sailor. - -“Now, skipper,” said Henry, returning. “We’re just opposite El Tigre. -Put up your helm and run for the passage. Also, and pronto, I want a -coil of half-inch, old, soft, manila rope, plenty of rope-yarns and sail -twine, that case of beer from the lazarette, that five-gallon kerosene -can that was emptied last night, and the coffee-pot from the galley.” - -“But I am distrained to remark to your attention that that rope is worth -good money, sir,” Captain Trefethen complained, as Henry set to work on -the heterogeneous gear. - -“You will be paid,” Francis hushed him. - -“And the coffee-pot—it is almost new.” - -“You will be paid.” - -The skipper sighed and surrendered, although he sighed again at Henry’s -next act, which was to uncork the bottles and begin emptying the beer -out into the scuppers. - -“Please, sir,” begged Percival. “If you must empty the beer please empty -it into me.” - -No further beer was wasted, and the crew swiftly laid the empty bottles -beside Henry. At intervals of six feet he fastened the recorked bottles -to the half-inch line. Also, he cut off two-fathom lengths of the line -and attached them like streamers between the beer bottles. The -coffee-pot and two empty coffee tins were likewise added among the -bottles. To one end of the main-line he made fast the kerosene can, to -the other end the empty beer-case, and looked up to Francis, who -replied: - -“Oh, I got you five minutes ago. El Tigre must be narrow, or else the -tug will go around that stuff.” - -“El Tigre is just that narrow,” was the response. “There’s one place -where the channel isn’t forty feet between the shoals. If the skipper -misses our trap, he’ll go around, aground. Say, they’ll be able to wade -ashore from the tug if that happens.—Come on, now, we’ll get the stuff -aft and ready to toss out. You take starboard and I’ll take port, and -when I give the word you shoot that beer case out to the side as far as -you can.” - -Though the wind eased down, the _Angelique_, square before it, managed -to make five knots, while the _Dolores_, doing six, slowly overhauled -her. As the rifles began to speak from the _Dolores_, the skipper, under -the direction of Henry and Francis, built up on the schooner’s stern a -low barricade of sacks of potatoes and onions, of old sails, and of -hawser coils. Crouching low in the shelter of this, the helmsman, -managed to steer. Leoncia refused to go below as the firing became more -continuous, but compromised by lying down behind the cabin-house. The -rest of the sailors sought similar shelter in nooks and corners, while -the Solano men, lying aft, returned the fire of the tug. - -Henry and Francis, in their chosen positions and waiting until the -narrowness of El Tigre was reached, took a hand in the free and easy -battle. - -“My congratulations, sir,” Captain Trefethen said to Francis, the Indian -of him compelling him to raise his head to peer across the rail, the -negro of him flattening his body down until almost it seemed to bore -into the deck. “That was Captain Rosaro himself that was steering, and -the way he jumped and grabbed his hand would lead one to conclude that -you had very adequately put a bullet through it. That Captain Rosaro is -a very hot-tempered hombre, sir. I can almost hear him blaspheming now.” - -“Stand ready for the word, Francis,” Henry said, laying down his rifle -and carefully studying the low shores of the islands of El Tigre on -either side of them. “We’re almost ready. Take your time when I give the -word, and at ‘three’ let her go.” - -The tug was two hundred yards away and overtaking fast, when Henry gave -the word. He and Francis stood up, and at “three” made their fling. To -either side can and beer-case flew, dragging behind them through the air -the beaded rope of pots and cans and bottles and rope-streamers. - -In their interest, Henry and Francis remained standing in order to watch -the maw of their trap as denoted by the spread of miscellaneous objects -on the surface of their troubled wake. A fusillade of rifle shots from -the tug made them drop back flat to the deck; but, peering over the -rail, they saw the tug’s forefoot press the floated rope down and under. -A minute later they saw the tug slow down to a stop. - -“Some mess wrapped around that propeller,” Francis applauded. “Henry, -salute.” - -“Now, if the wind holds ...” said Henry modestly. - -The _Angelique_ sailed on, leaving the motionless tug to grow smaller in -the distance, but not so small that they could not see her drift -helplessly onto the shoal, and see men going over the side and wading -about. - -“We just must sing our little song,” Henry cried jubilantly, starting up -the stave of “Back to Back Against the Mainmast.” - -“Which is all very nice, sir,” Captain Trefethen interrupted at the -conclusion of the first chorus, his eyes glistening and his shoulders -still jiggling to the rhythm of the song. “But the wind has ceased, sir. -We are becalmed. How are we to get out of Juchitan Inlet without wind? -The _Dolores_ is not wrecked. She is merely delayed. Some nigger will go -down and clear her propeller, and then she has us right where she wants -us.” - -“It’s not so far to shore,” Henry adjudged with a measuring eye as he -turned to Enrico. - -“What kind of a shore have they got ashore here, Senor Solano?” he -queried. “Maya Indians and haciendados—which?” - -“Haciendados and Mayas, both,” Enrico answered. “But I know the country -well. If the schooner is not safe, we should be safe ashore. We can get -horses and saddles and beef and corn. The Cordilleras are beyond. What -more should we want?” - -“But Leoncia?” Francis asked solicitously. - -“Was born in the saddle, and in the saddle there are few Americanos she -would not weary,” came Enrico’s answer. “It would be well, with your -acquiescence, to swing out the long boat in case the _Dolores_ appears -upon us.” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - -“It’s all right, skipper, it’s all right,” Henry assured the breed -captain, who, standing on the beach with them, seemed loath to say -farewell and pull back to the _Angelique_ adrift half a mile away in the -dead calm which had fallen on Juchitan Inlet. - -“It is what we call a diversion,” Francis explained. “That is a nice -word—_diversion_. And it is even nicer when you see it work.” - -“But if it don’t work,” Captain Trefethen protested, “then will it spell -a confounded word, which I may name as _catastrophe_.” - -“That is what happened to the _Dolores_ when we tangled her propeller,” -Henry laughed. “But we do not know the meaning of that word. We use -_diversion_ instead. The proof that it will work is that we are leaving -Senor Solano’s two sons with you. Alvarado and Martinez know the -passages like a book. They will pilot you out with the first favoring -breeze. The Jefe is not interested in you. He is after us, and when we -take to the hills he’ll be on our trail with every last man of his.” - -“Don’t you see!” Francis broke in. “The _Angelique_ is trapped. If we -remain on board he will capture us and the _Angelique_ as well. But we -make the diversion of taking to the hills. He pursues us. The -_Angelique_ goes free. And of course he won’t catch us.” - -“But suppose I do lose the schooner!” the swarthy skipper persisted. “If -she goes on the rocks I will lose her, and the passages are very -perilous.” - -“Then you will be paid for her, as I’ve told you before,” Francis said, -with a show of rising irritation. - -“Also are there my numerous expenses——” - -Francis pulled out a pad and pencil, scribbled a note, and passed it -over, saying: - -“Present that to Senor Melchor Gonzales at Bocas del Toro. It is for a -thousand gold. He is the banker; he is my agent, and he will pay it to -you.” - -Captain Trefethen stared incredulously at the scrawled bit of paper. - -“Oh, he’s good for it,” Henry said. - -“Yes, sir, I know, sir, that Mr. Francis Morgan is a wealthy gentleman -of renown. But how wealthy is he? Is he as wealthy as I modestly am? I -own the _Angelique_, free of all debt. I own two town lots, unimproved, -in Colon. And I own four water-front lots in Belen that will make me -very wealthy when the Union Fruit Company begins the building of the -warehouses——” - -“How much, Francis, did your father leave you?” Henry quipped teasingly. -“Or, rather, how many?” - -Francis shrugged his shoulders as he answered vaguely: “More than I have -fingers and toes.” - -“Dollars, sir?” queried the captain. - -Henry shook his head sharply. - -“Thousands, sir?” - -Again Henry shook his head. - -“Millions, sir?” - -“Now you’re talking,” Henry answered. “Mr. Francis Morgan is rich enough -to buy almost all of the Republic of Panama, with the Canal cut out of -the deal.” - -The negro-Indian mariner looked his unbelief to Enrico Solano, who -replied: - -“He is an honorable gentleman. I know. I have cashed his paper, drawn on -Senor Melchor Gonzales at Bocas del Toro, for a thousand pesos. There it -is in the bag there.” - -He nodded his head up the beach to where Leoncia, in the midst of the -dunnage landed with them, was toying with trying to slip cartridges into -a Winchester rifle. The bag, which the skipper had long since noted, lay -at her feet in the sand. - -“I do hate to travel strapped,” Francis explained embarrassedly to the -white men of the group. “One never knows when a dollar mayn’t come in -handy. I got caught with a broken machine at Smith River Comers, up New -York way, one night, with nothing but a check book, and, d’you know, I -couldn’t get even a cigarette in the town.” - -“I trusted a white gentleman in Barbadoes once, who chartered my boat to -go fishing flying fish——” the captain began. - -“Well, so long, skipper,” Henry shut him off. “You’d better be getting -on board, because we’re going to hike.” - -And for Captain Trefethen, staring at the backs of his departing -passengers, remained naught but to obey. Helping to shove the boat off, -he climbed in, took the steering sweep, and directed his course toward -the _Angelique_. Glancing back from time to time, he saw the party on -the beach shoulder the baggage and disappear into the dense green wall -of vegetation. - - * * * * * - -They came out upon an inchoate clearing, and saw gangs of peons at work -chopping down and grubbing out the roots of the virgin tropic forest so -that rubber trees for the manufacture of automobile tires might be -planted to replace it. Leoncia, beside her father, walked in the lead. -Her brothers, Ricardo and Alesandro, in the middle, were burdened with -the dunnage, as were Francis and Henry, who brought up the rear. And -this strange procession was met by a slender, straight-backed, -hidalgo-appearing, elderly gentleman, who leaped his horse across -tree-trunks and stump-holes in order to gain to them. - -He was off his horse, at sight of Enrico, sombrero in hand in -recognition of Leoncia, his hand extended to Enrico in greeting of -ancient friendship, his lips wording words and his eyes expressing -admiration to Enrico’s daughter. - -The talk was in rapid-fire Spanish, and the request for horses preferred -and qualifiedly granted, ere the introduction of the two Morgans took -place. The haciendado’s horse, after the Latin fashion, was immediately -Leoncia’s, and, without ado, he shortened the stirrups and placed her -astride in the saddle. A murrain, he explained, had swept his plantation -of riding animals; but his chief overseer still possessed a -fair-conditioned one which was Enrico’s as soon as it could be procured. - -His handshake to Henry and Francis was hearty as well as dignified, as -he took two full minutes ornately to state that any friend of his dear -friend Enrico was his friend. When Enrico asked the haciendado about the -trails up toward the Cordilleras and mentioned oil, Francis pricked up -his ears. - -“Don’t tell me, Senor,” he began, “that they have located oil in -Panama?” - -“They have,” the haciendado nodded gravely. “We knew of the oil ooze, -and had known of it for generations. But it was the Hermosillo Company -that sent its Gringo engineers in secretly and then bought up the land. -They say it is a great field. But I know nothing of oil myself. They -have many wells, and have bored much, and so much oil have they that it -is running away over the landscape. They say they cannot choke it -entirely down, such is the volume and pressure. What they need is the -pipe-line to ocean-carriage, which they have begun to build. In the -meantime it flows away down the canyons, an utter loss of incredible -proportion.” - -“Have they built any tanks?” Francis demanded, his mind running eagerly -on Tampico Petroleum, to which most of his own fortune was pledged, and -of which, despite the rising stock-market, he had heard nothing since -his departure from New York. - -The haciendado shook his head. - -“Transportation,” he explained. “The freight from tide-water to the -gushers by mule-back has been prohibitive. But they have impounded much -of it. They have lakes of oil, great reservoirs in the hollows of the -hills, earthen-dammed, and still they cannot choke down the flow, and -still the precious substance flows down the canyons.” - -“Have they roofed these reservoirs?” Francis inquired, remembering a -disastrous fire in the early days of Tampico Petroleum. - -“No, Senor.” - -Francis shook his head disapprovingly. - -“They should be roofed,” he said. “A match from the drunken or -revengeful hand of any peon could set the whole works off. It’s poor -business, poor business.” - -“But I am not the Hermosillo,” the haciendado said. - -“For the Hermosillo Company, I meant, Senor,” Francis explained. “I am -an oil-man. I have paid through the nose to the tune of hundreds of -thousands for similar accidents or crimes. One never knows just how they -happen. What one does know is that they do happen——” - -What more Francis might have said about the expediency of protecting oil -reservoirs from stupid or wilful peons, was never to be known; for, at -the moment, the chief overseer of the plantation, stick in hand, rode -up, half his interest devoted to the newcomers, the other half to the -squad of peons working close at hand. - -“Senor Ramirez, will you favor me by dismounting,” his employer, the -haciendado, politely addressed him, at the same time introducing him to -the strangers as soon as he had dismounted. - -“The animal is yours, friend Enrico,” the haciendado said. “If it dies, -please return at your easy convenience the saddle and gear. And if your -convenience be not easy, please do not remember that there is to be any -return, save ever and always, of your love for me. I regret that you and -your party cannot now partake of my hospitality. But the Jefe is a -bloodhound, I know. We shall do our best to send him astray.” - -With Leoncia and Enrico mounted, and the gear made fast to the saddles -by leather thongs, the cavalcade started, Alesandro and Ricardo clinging -each to a stirrup of their father’s saddle and trotting alongside. This -was for making greater haste, and was emulated by Francis and Henry, who -clung to Leoncia’s stirrups. Fast to the pommel of her saddle was the -bag of silver dollars. - -“It is some mistake,” the haciendado was explaining to his overseer. -“Enrico Solano is an honorable man. Anything to which he pledges himself -is honorable. He has pledged himself to this, whatever it may be, and -yet is Mariano Vercara é Hijos on their trail. We shall mislead him if -he comes this way.” - -“And here he comes,” the overseer remarked, “without luck so far in -finding horses.” Casually he turned on the laboring peons and with -horrible threats urged them to do at least half a day’s decent work in a -day. - -From the corner of his eye, the haciendado observed the fast-walking -group of men, with Alvarez Torres in the lead; but, as if he had not -noticed, he conferred with his overseer about the means of grubbing out -the particular stump the peons were working on. - -He returned the greeting of Torres pleasantly, and inquired politely, -with a touch of devilry, if he led the party of men on some -oil-prospecting adventure. - -“No, Senor,” Torres answered. “We are in search of Senor Enrico Solano, -his daughter, his sons, and two tall Gringos with them. It is the -Gringos we want. They have passed this way, Senor?” - -“Yes, they have passed. I imagined they, too, were in some oil -excitement, such was their haste that prevented them from courteously -passing the time of day and stating their destination. Have they -committed some offence? But I should not ask. Senor Enrico Solano is too -honorable a man——” - -“Which way did they go?” the Jefe demanded, thrusting himself -breathlessly forward from the rear of his gendarmes with whom he had -just caught up. - -And while the haciendado and his overseer temporized and prevaricated, -and indicated an entirely different direction, Torres noted one of the -peons, leaning on his spade, listen intently. And still while the Jefe -was being misled and was giving orders to proceed on the false scent, -Torres flashed a silver dollar privily to the listening peon. The peon -nodded his head in the right direction, caught the coin unobserved, and -applied himself to his digging at the root of the huge stump. - -Torres countermanded the Jefe’s order. - -“We will go the other way,” Torres said, with a wink to the Jefe. “A -little bird has told me that our friend here is mistaken and that they -have gone the other way.” - -As the posse departed on the hot trail, the haciendado and his overseer -looked at each other in consternation and amazement. The overseer made a -movement of his lips for silence, and looked swiftly at the group of -laborers. The offending peon was working furiously and absorbedly, but -another peon, with a barely perceptible nod of head, indicated him to -the overseer. - -“There’s the little bird,” the overseer cried, striding to the traitor -and shaking him violently. - -Out of the peon’s rags flew the silver dollar. - -“Ah, ha,” said the haciendado, grasping the situation. “He has become -suddenly affluent. This is horrible, that my peons should be wealthy. -Doubtless, he has murdered some one for all that sum. Beat him, and make -him confess.” - -The creature, on his knees, the stick of the overseer raining blows on -his head and back, made confession of what he had done to earn the -dollar. - -“Beat him, beat him some more, beat him to death, the beast who betrayed -my dearest friends,” the haciendado urged placidly. “But no——caution. Do -not beat him to death, but nearly so. We are short of labor now and -cannot afford the full measure of our just resentment. Beat him to hurt -him much, but that he shall be compelled to lay off work no more than a -couple of days.” - -Of the immediately subsequent agonies, adventures, and misadventures of -the peon, a volume might be written which would be the epic of his life. -Besides, to be beaten nearly to death is not nice to contemplate or -dwell upon. Let it suffice to tell that when he had received no more -than part of his beating; he wrenched free, leaving half his rags in the -overseer’s grasp, and fled madly for the jungle, outfooting the overseer -who was unused to rapid locomotion save when on a horse’s back. - -Such was the speed of the wretched creature’s flight, spurred on by the -pain of his lacerations and the fear of the overseer, that, plunging -wildly on, he overtook the Solano party and plunged out of the jungle -and into them as they were crossing a shallow stream, and fell upon his -knees, whimpering for mercy. He whimpered because of his betrayal of -them. But this they did not know, and Francis, seeing his pitiable -condition, lingered behind long enough to unscrew the metal top from a -pocket flask and revive him with a drink of half the contents. Then -Francis hastened on, leaving the poor devil muttering inarticulate -thanks ere he dived off into the sheltering jungle in a different -direction. But, underfed, overworked, his body gave way, and he sank -down in collapse in the green covert. - -Next, Alvarez Torres in the lead and tracking like a hound, the -gendarmes at his back, the Jefe panting in the rear from shortness of -breath, the pursuit arrived at the stream. The foot-marks of the peon, -still wet on the dry stones beyond the margin of the stream, caught -Torres’ eye. In a trice, by what little was left of his garments, the -peon was dragged out. On his knees, which portion of his anatomy he was -destined to occupy much this day, he begged for mercy and received his -interrogation. And he denied knowledge of the Solano party. He, who had -betrayed and been beaten, but who had received only succor from those he -had betrayed, felt stir in him some atom of gratitude and good. He -denied knowledge of the Solanos since in the clearing where he had sold -them for the silver dollar. Torres’ stick fell upon his head, five -times, ten times, and went on falling with the certitude that in all -eternity there would be no cessation unless he told the truth. And, -after all, he was a miserable and wretched thing, spirit-broken by -beatings from the cradle, and the sting of Torres’ stick, with the -threat of the plenitude of the stick that meant the death his own owner, -the haciendado, could not afford, made him give in and point the way of -the chase. - -But his day of tribulation had only begun. Scarcely had he betrayed the -Solanos the second time, and still on his knees, when the haciendado, -with the posse of neighboring haciendados and overseers he had called to -his help, burst upon the scene astride sweating horses. - -“My peon, senors,” announced the haciendado, itching to be at him. “You -maltreat him.” - -“And why not?” demanded the Jefe. - -“Because he is mine to maltreat, and I wish to do it myself.” - -The peon crawled and squirmed to the Jefe’s feet and begged and -entreated not to be given up. But he begged for mercy where was no -mercy. - -“Certainly, senor,” the Jefe said to the haciendado. “We give him back -to you. We must uphold the law, and he is your property. Besides, we -have no further use for him. Yet is he a most excellent peon, senor. He -has done what no peon has ever done in the history of Panama. He has -told the truth twice in one day.” - -His hands tied together in front of him and hitched by a rope to the -horn of the overseer’s saddle, the peon was towed away on the back-track -with a certain apprehension that the worst of his beatings for that day -was very imminent. Nor was he mistaken. Back at the plantation, he was -tied like an animal to a post of a barbed wire fence, while his owner -and the friends of his owner who had helped in the capture went into the -hacienda to take their twelve o’clock breakfast. After that, he knew -what he was to receive. But the barbed wire of the fence, and the lame -mare in the paddock behind it, built an idea in the desperate mind of -the peon. Though the sharp barbs of the wire again and again cut his -wrist, he quickly sawed through his bonds, free save for the law, -crawled under the fence, led the lame mare through the gate, mounted her -barebacked, and, with naked heels tattooing her ribs, galloped her away -toward the safety of the Cordilleras. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - -In the meantime the Solanos were being overtaken, and Henry teased -Francis with: - -“Here in the jungle is where dollars are worthless. They can buy neither -fresh horses, nor can they repair these two spineless creatures, which -must likewise be afflicted with the murrain that carried off the rest of -the haciendado’s riding animals.” - -“I’ve never been in a place yet where money wouldn’t work,” Francis -replied. - -“I suppose it could even buy a drink of water in hell,” was Henry’s -retort. - -Leoncia clapped her hands. - -“I don’t know,” Francis observed. “I have never been there.” - -Again Leoncia clapped her hands. - -“Just the same I have an idea I can make dollars work in the jungle, and -I am going to try it right now,” Francis continued, at the same time -untying the coin-sack from Leoncia’s pommel. “You go ahead and ride on.” - -“But you must tell _me_,” Leoncia insisted; and, aside, in her ear as -she leaned to him from the saddle, he whispered what made her laugh -again, while Henry, conferring with Enrico and his sons, inwardly -berated himself for being a jealous fool. - -Before they were out of sight, looking back, they saw Francis, with pad -and pencil out, writing something. What he wrote was eloquently brief, -merely the figure “50.” Tearing off the sheet, he laid it conspicuously -in the middle of the trail and weighted it down with a silver dollar. -Counting out forty-nine other dollars from the bag, he sowed them very -immediately about the first one and ran up the trail after his party. - - * * * * * - -Augustino, the gendarme who rarely spoke when he was sober, but who when -drunk preached volubly the wisdom of silence, was in the lead, with bent -head nosing the track of the quarry, when his keen eyes lighted on the -silver dollar holding down the sheet of paper. The first he -appropriated; the second he turned over to the Jefe. Torres looked over -his shoulder, and together they read the mystic “50.” The Jefe tossed -the scrap of paper aside as of little worth, and was for resuming the -chase, but Augustino picked up and pondered the “50” thoughtfully. Even -as he pondered it, a shout from Rafael advertised the finding of another -dollar. Then Augustino knew. There were fifty of the coins to be had for -the picking up. Flinging the note to the wind, he was on hands and knees -overhauling the ground. The rest of the party joined in the scramble, -while Torres and the Jefe screamed curses on them in a vain effort to -make them proceed. - -When the gendarmes could find no more, they counted up what they had -recovered. The toll came to forty-seven. - -“There are three more,” cried Rafael, whereupon all flung themselves -into the search again. Five minutes more were lost, ere the three other -coins were found. Each pocketed what he had retrieved and obediently -swung into the pursuit at the heels of Torres and the Jefe. - -A mile farther on, Torres tried to trample a shining dollar into the -dirt, but Augustino’s ferret eyes had been too quick, and his eager -fingers dug it out of the soft earth. Where was one dollar, as they had -already learned, there were more dollars. The posse came to a halt, and -while the two leaders fumed and imprecated, the rest of the members cast -about right and left from the trail. - -Vicente, a moon-faced gendarme, who looked more like a Mexican Indian -than a Maya or a Panamanian “breed,” lighted first on the clue. All -gathered about, like hounds around a tree into which the ‘possum has -been run. In truth, it was a tree, or a rotten and hollow stump of one, -a dozen feet in height and a third as many feet in diameter. Five feet -from the ground was an opening. Above the opening, pinned on by a thorn, -was a sheet of paper the same size as the first they had found. On it -was written “100.” - -In the scramble that ensued, half a dozen minutes were lost as half a -dozen right arms strove to be first in dipping into the hollow heart of -the stump to the treasure. But the hollow extended deeper than their -arms were long. - -“We will chop down the stump,” Rafael cried, sounding with the back of -his machete against the side of it to locate the base of the hollow. “We -will all chop, and we will count what we find inside and divide -equally.” - -By this time their leaders were frantic, and the Jefe had begun -threatening, the moment they were back in San Antonio, to send them to -San Juan where their carcasses would be picked by the buzzards. - -“But we are not back in San Antonio, thank God,” said Augustino, -breaking his sober seal of silence in order to enunciate wisdom. - -“We are poor men, and we will divide in fairness,” spoke up Rafael. -“Augustino is right, and thank God for it that we are not back in San -Antonio. This rich Gringo scatters more money along the way in a day for -us to pick up than could we earn in a year where we come from. I, for -one, am for revolution, where money is so plentiful.” - -“With the rich Gringo for a leader,” Augustino supplemented. “For as -long as he leads this way could I follow forever.” - -“If,” Rafael nodded agreement, with a pitch of his head toward Torres -and the Jefe, “if they do not give us opportunity to gather what the -gods have spread for us, then to the last and deepest of the roasting -hells of hell for them. We are men, not slaves. The world is wide. The -Cordilleras are just beyond. We will all be rich, and free men, and live -in the Cordilleras where the Indian maidens are wildly beautiful and -desirable——” - -“And we will be well rid of our wives, back in San Antonio,” said -Vicente. “Let us now chop down this treasure tree.” - -Swinging their machetes with heavy, hacking blows, the wood, so rotten -that it was spongy, gave way readily before their blades. And when the -stump fell over, they counted and divided, in equity, not one hundred -silver dollars, but one hundred and forty-seven. - -“He is generous, this Gringo,” quoth Vicente. “He leaves more than he -says. May there not be still more?” - -And, from the debris of rotten wood, much of it crumbled to powder under -their blows, they recovered five more coins, in the doing of which they -lost ten more minutes that drove Torres and Jefe to the verge of -madness. - -“He does not stop to count, the wealthy Gringo,” said Rafael. “He must -merely open that sack and pour it out. And that is the sack with which -he rode to the beach of San Antonio when he blew up with dynamite the -wall of our jail.” - -The chase was resumed, and all went well for half an hour, when they -came upon an abandoned freehold, already half-overrun with the returning -jungle. A dilapidated, straw-thatched house, a fallen-in labor barracks, -a broken-down corral the very posts of which had sprouted and leaved -into growing trees, and a well showing recent use by virtue of a fresh -length of riata attaching bucket to well-sweep, showed where some man -had failed to tame the wild. And, conspicuously on the well-sweep, was -pinned a familiar sheet of paper on which was written “300.” - -“Mother of God!—a fortune!” cried Rafael. - -“May the devil forever torture him in the last and deepest hell!” was -Torres’ contribution. - -“He pays better than your Senor Regan,” the Jefe sneered in his despair -and disgust. - -“His bag of silver is only so large,” Torres retorted. “It seems we must -pick it all up before we catch him. But when we have picked it all up, -and his bag is empty, then will we catch him.” - -“We will go on now, comrades,” the Jefe addressed his posse -ingratiatingly. “Afterwards, we will return at our leisure and recover -the silver.” - -Augustino broke his seal of silence again. - -“One never knows the way of one’s return, if one ever returns,” he -enunciated pessimistically. Elated by the pearl of wisdom he had -dropped, he essayed another. “Three hundred in hand is better than three -million in the bottom of a well we may never see again.” - -“Some one must descend into the well,” spoke Rafael, testing the braided -rope with his weight. “See! The riata is strong. We will lower a man by -it. Who is the brave one who will go down?” - -“I,” said Vicente. “I will be the brave one to go down——” - -“And steal half that you find,” Rafael uttered his instant suspicion. -“If you go down, first must you count over to us the pesos you already -possess. Then, when you come up, we can search you for all you have -found. After that, when we have divided equitably, will your other pesos -be returned to you.” - -“Then will I not go down for comrades who have no trust in me,” Vicente -said stubbornly. “Here, beside the well, I am as wealthy as any of you. -Then why should I go down? I have heard of men dying in the bottom of -wells.” - -“In God’s name go down!” stormed the Jefe. “Haste! Haste!” - -“I am too fat, the rope is not strong, and I shall not go down,” said -Vicente. - -All looked to Augustino, the silent one, who had already spoken more -than he was accustomed to speak in a week. - -“Guillermo is the thinnest and lightest,” said Augustino. - -“Guillermo will go down!” the rest chorused. - -But Guillermo, glaring apprehensively at the mouth of the well, backed -away, shaking his head and crossing himself. - -“Not for the sacred treasure in the secret city of the Mayas,” he -muttered. - -The Jefe pulled his revolver and glanced to the remainder of the posse -for confirmation. With eyes and head-nods they gave it. - -“In heaven’s name go down,” he threatened the little gendarme. “And make -haste, or I shall put you in such a fix that never again will you go up -or down, but you will remain here and rot forever beside this hole of -perdition.—Is it well, comrades, that I kill him if he does not go -down?” - -“It is well,” they shouted. - -And Guillermo, with trembling fingers, counted out the coins he had -already retrieved, and, in the throes of fear, crossing himself -repeatedly and urged on by the hand-thrusts of his companions, stepped -upon the bucket, sat down on it with legs wrapped about it, and was -lowered away out of the light of day. - -“Stop!” he screamed up the shaft. “Stop! Stop! The water! I am upon it!” - -Those on the sweep held it with their weight. - -“I should receive ten pesos extra above my share,” he called up. - -“You shall receive baptism,” was called down to him, and, variously: -“You will have your fill of water this day”; “We will let go”; “We will -cut the rope”; “There will be one less with whom to share.” - -“The water is not nice,” he replied, his voice rising like a ghost’s out -of the dark depth. “There are sick lizards, and a dead bird that stinks. -And there may be snakes. It is well worth ten pesos extra what I must -do.” - -“We will drown you!” Rafael shouted. - -“I shall shoot down upon you and kill you!” the Jefe bullied. - -“Shoot or drown me,” Guillermo’s voice floated up; “but it will buy you -nothing, for the treasure will still be in the well.” - -There was a pause, in which those at the surface questioned each other -with their eyes as to what they should do. - -“And the Gringos are running away farther and farther,” Torres fumed. “A -fine discipline you have, Senor Mariano Vercara è Hijos, over your -gendarmes!” - -“This is not San Antonio,” the Jefe flared back. “This is the bush of -Juchitan. My dogs are good dogs in San Antonio. In the bush they must be -handled gently, else may they become wild dogs, and what then will -happen to you and me?” - -“It is the curse of gold,” Torres surrendered sadly. “It is almost -enough to make one become a socialist, with a Gringo thus tying the -hands of justice with ropes of gold.” - -“Of silver,” the Jefe corrected. - -“You go to hell,” said Torres. “As you have pointed out, this is not San -Antonio but the bush of Juchitan, and here I may well tell you to go to -hell. Why should you and I quarrel because of your bad temper, when our -prosperity depends on standing together?” - -“Besides,” the voice of Guillermo drifted up, “the water is not two feet -deep. You cannot drown me in it. I have just felt the bottom and I have -four round silver pesos in my hand right now. The bottom is carpeted -with pesos. Do you want to let go? Or do I get ten pesos extra for the -filthy job? The water stinks like a fresh graveyard.” - -“Yes! Yes!” they shouted down. - -“Which? Let go? Or the extra ten?” - -“The extra ten!” they chorused. - -“In God’s name, haste! haste!” cried the Jefe. - -They heard splashings and curses from the bottom of the well, and, from -the lightening of the strain on the riata, knew that Guillermo had left -the bucket and was floundering for the coin. - -“Put it in the bucket, good Guillermo,” Rafael called down. - -“I am putting it in my pockets,” up came the reply. “Did I put it in the -bucket you might haul it up first and well forget to haul me up -afterward.” - -“The double weight might break the riata,” Rafael cautioned. - -“The riata may not be so strong as my will, for my will in this matter -is most strong,” said Guillermo. - -“If the riata should break ...” Rafael began again. - -“I have a solution,” said Guillermo. “Do you come down. Then shall I go -up first. Second, the treasure shall go up in the bucket. And, third and -last, shall you go up. Thus will justice be triumphant.” - -Rafael, with dropped jaw of dismay, did not reply. - -“Are you coming, Rafael?” - -“No,” he answered. “Put all the silver in your pockets and come up -together with it.” - -“I could curse the race that bore me,” was the impatient observation of -the Jefe. - -“I have already cursed it,” said Torres. - -“Haul away!” shouted Guillermo. “I have everything in my pockets save -the stench; and I am suffocating. Haul quick, or I shall perish, and the -three hundred pesos will perish with me. And there are more than three -hundred. He must have emptied his bag.” - - * * * * * - -Ahead, on the trail, where the way grew steep and the horses without -stamina rested and panted, Francis overtook his party. - -“Never again shall I travel without minted coin of the realm,” he -exulted, as he described what he had remained behind to see from the -edge of the deserted plantation. “Henry, when I die and go to heaven, I -shall have a stout bag of cash along with me. Even there could it redeem -me from heaven alone knows what scrapes. Listen! They fought like cats -and dogs about the mouth of the well. Nobody would trust anybody to -descend into the well unless he deposited what he had previously picked -up with those that remained at the top. They were out of hand. The Jefe, -at the point of his gun, had to force the littlest and leanest of them -to go down. And when he was down he blackmailed them before he would -come up. And when he came up they broke their promises and gave him a -beating. They were still beating him when I left.” - -“But now your sack is empty,” said Henry. - -“Which is our present and most pressing trouble,” Francis agreed. “Had I -sufficient pesos I could keep the pursuit well behind us forever. I’m -afraid I was too generous. I did not know how cheap the poor devils -were. But I’ll tell you something that will make your hair stand up. -Torres, Senor Torres, Senor Alvarez Torres, the elegant gentleman and -old-time friend of you Solanos, is leading the pursuit along with the -Jefe. He is furious at the delay. They almost had a rupture because the -Jefe couldn’t keep his men in hand. Yes, sir, and he told the Jefe to go -to hell. I distinctly heard him tell the Jefe to go to hell.” - -Five miles farther on, the horses of Leoncia and her father in collapse, -where the trail plunged into and ascended a dark ravine, Francis urged -the others on and dropped behind. Giving them a few minutes’ start, he -followed on behind, a self-constituted rearguard. Part way along, in an -open space where grew only a thick sod of grass, he was dismayed to find -the hoof-prints of the two horses staring at him as large as dinner -plates from out of the sod. Into the hoof-prints had welled a dark, -slimy fluid that his eye told him was crude oil. This was but the -beginning, a sort of seepage from a side stream above off from the main -flow. A hundred yards beyond he came upon the flow itself, a river of -oil that on such a slope would have been a cataract had it been water. -But being crude oil, as thick as molasses, it oozed slowly down the hill -like so much molasses. And here, preferring to make his stand rather -than to wade through the sticky mess, Francis sat down on a rock, laid -his rifle on one side of him, his automatic pistol on the other side, -rolled a cigarette, and kept his ears pricked for the first sounds of -the pursuit. - - * * * * * - -And the beaten peon, threatened with more beatings and belaboring his -over-ridden mare, rode across the top of the ravine above Francis, and, -at the oil-well itself, had his exhausted animal collapse under him. -With his heels he kicked her back to her feet, and with a stick -belabored her to stagger away from him and on and into the jungle. And -the first day of his adventures, although he did not know it, was not -yet over. He, too, squatted on a stone, his feet out of the oil, rolled -a cigarette, and, as he smoked it, contemplated the flowing oil-well. -The noise of approaching men startled him, and he fled into the -immediately adjacent jungle, from which he peered forth and saw two -strange men appear. They came directly to the well, and, by an iron -wheel turning the valve, choked down the flow still further. - -“No more,” commanded the one who seemed to be leader. “Another turn, and -the pressure will blow out the pipes—for so the Gringo engineer has -warned me most carefully.” - -And a slight flow, beyond the limited safety, continued to run from the -mouth of the gusher down the mountain side. Scarcely had the two men -accomplished this, when a body of horsemen rode up, whom the peon in -hiding recognized as the haciendado who owned him and the overseers and -haciendados of neighboring plantations who delighted in running down a -fugitive laborer in much the same way that the English delight in -chasing the fox. - -No, the two oil-men had seen nobody. But the haciendado who led saw the -footprints of the mare, and spurred his horse to follow, his crowd at -his heels. - -The peon waited, smoked his cigarette quite to the finish, and -cogitated. When all was clear, he ventured forth, turned the mechanism -controlling the well wide open, watched the oil fountaining upward under -the subterranean pressure and flowing down the mountain in a veritable -river. Also, he listened to and noted the sobbing, and gasping, and -bubbling of the escaping gas. This he did not comprehend, and all that -saved him for his further adventures was the fact that he had used his -last match to light his cigarette. In vain he searched his rags, his -ears, and his hair. He was out of matches. - -So, chuckling at the river of oil he was wantonly running to waste, and, -remembering the canyon trail below, he plunged down the mountainside and -upon Francis, who received him with extended automatic. Down went the -peon on his frayed and frazzled knees in terror and supplication to the -man he had twice betrayed that day. Francis studied him, at first -without recognition, because of the bruised and lacerated face and head -on which the blood had dried like a mask. - -“Amigo, amigo,” chattered the peon. - -But at that moment, from below on the ravine trail, Francis heard the -clatter of a stone dislodged by some man’s foot. The next moment he -identified what was left of the peon as the pitiable creature to whom he -had given half the contents of his whiskey flask. - -“Well, amigo,” Francis said in the native language, “it looks as if they -are after you.” - -“They will kill me, they will beat me to death, they are very angry,” -the wretch quavered. “You are my only friend, my father and my mother, -save me.” - -“Can you shoot?” Francis demanded. - -“I was a hunter in the Cordilleras before I was sold into slavery, -Senor,” was the reply. - -Francis passed him the automatic, motioned him to take shelter, and told -him not to fire until sure of a hit. And to himself he mused: The -golfers are out on the links right now at Tarrytown. And Mrs. Bellingham -is on the clubhouse veranda wondering how she is going to pay the three -thousand points she’s behind and praying for a change of luck. And——here -am I,—Lord! Lord——backed up to a river of oil.... - -His musing ceased as abruptly as appeared the Jefe, Torres, and the -gendarmes down the trail. As abruptly he fired his rifle, and as -abruptly they fell back out of sight. He could not tell whether he had -hit one, or whether the man had merely fallen in precipitate retreat. -The pursuers did not care to make a rush of it, contenting themselves -with bushwhacking. Francis and the peon did the same, sheltering behind -rocks and bushes and frequently changing their positions. - -At the end of an hour, the last cartridge in Francis’ rifle was all that -remained. The peon, under his warnings and threats, still retained two -cartridges in the automatic. But the hour had been an hour saved for -Leoncia and her people, and Francis was contentedly aware that at any -moment he could turn and escape by wading across the river of oil. So -all was well, and would have been well, had not, from above, come an -eruption of another body of men, who, from behind trees, fired as they -descended. This was the haciendado and his fellow haciendados, in chase -of the fugitive peon—although Francis did not know it. His conclusion -was that it was another posse that was after him. The shots they fired -at him were strongly confirmative. - -The peon crawled to his side, showed him that two shots remained in the -automatic he was returning to him, and impressively begged from him his -box of matches. Next, the peon motioned him to cross the bottom of the -canyon and climb the other side. With half a guess of the creature’s -intention, Francis complied, from his new position of vantage emptying -his last rifle cartridge at the advancing posse and sending it back into -shelter down the ravine. - -The next moment, the river of oil flared into flame from where the peon -had touched a match to it. In the following moment, clear up the -mountainside, the well itself sent a fountain of ignited gas a hundred -feet into the air. And, in the moment after, the ravine itself poured a -torrent of flame down upon the posse of Torres and the Jefe. - -Scorched by the heat of the conflagration, Francis and the peon clawed -up the opposite side of the ravine, circled around and past the blazing -trail, and, at a dog-trot, raced up the recovered trail. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - -While Francis and the peon hurried up the ravine-trail in safety, the -ravine itself, below where the oil flowed in, had become a river of -flame, which drove the Jefe, Torres, and the gendarmes to scale the -steep wall of the ravine. At the same time the party of haciendados in -pursuit of the peon was compelled to claw back and up to escape out of -the roaring canyon. - -Ever the peon glanced back over his shoulder, until, with a cry of joy, -he indicated a second black-smoke pillar rising in the air beyond the -first burning well. - -“More,” he chuckled. “There are more wells. They will all burn. And so -shall they and all their race pay for the many blows they have beaten on -me. And there is a lake of oil there, like the sea, like Juchitan Inlet -it is so big.” - -And Francis recollected the lake of oil about which the haciendado had -told him—that, containing at least five million barrels which could not -yet be piped to sea transport, lay open to the sky, merely in a natural -depression in the ground and contained by an earth dam. - -“How much are you worth?” he demanded of the peon with apparent -irrelevance. - -But the peon could not understand. - -“How much are your clothes worth—all you’ve got on?” - -“Half a peso, nay, half of a half peso,” the peon admitted ruefully, -surveying what was left of his tattered rags. - -“And other property?” - -The wretched creature shrugged his shoulders in token of his utter -destitution, then added bitterly: - -“I possess nothing but a debt. I owe two hundred and fifty pesos. I am -tied to it for life, damned with it for life like a man with a cancer. -That is why I am a slave to the haciendado.” - -“Huh!” Francis could not forbear to grin. “Worth two hundred and fifty -pesos less than nothing, not even a cipher, a sheer abstraction of a -minus quantity without existence save in the mathematical imagination of -man, and yet here you are burning up not less than millions of pesos’ -worth of oil. And if the strata is loose and erratic and the oil leaks -up outside the tubing, the chances are that the oil-body of the entire -field is ignited—say a billion dollars’ worth. Say, for an abstraction -enjoying two hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of non-existence, you are -some hombre, believe me.” - -Nothing of which the peon understood save the word “hombre.” - -“I am a man,” he proclaimed, thrusting out his chest and straightening -up his bruised head. “I am a hombre and I am a Maya.” - -“Maya Indian—you?” Francis scoffed. - -“Half Maya,” was the reluctant admission. “My father is pure Maya. But -the Maya women of the Cordilleras did not satisfy him. He must love a -mixed-breed woman of the _tierra caliente_. I was so born; but she -afterward betrayed him for a Barbadoes nigger, and he went back to the -Cordilleras to live. And, like my father, I was born to love a mixed -breed of the _tierra caliente_. She wanted money, and my head was -fevered with want of her, and I sold myself to be a peon for two hundred -pesos. And I saw never her nor the money again. For five years I have -been a peon. For five years I have slaved and been beaten, and behold, -at the end of five years my debt is not two hundred but two hundred and -fifty pesos.” - - * * * * * - -And while Francis Morgan and the long-suffering Maya half-breed plodded -on deeper into the Cordilleras to overtake their party, and while the -oil fields of Juchitan continued to go up in increasing smoke, still -farther on, in the heart of the Cordilleras, were preparing other events -destined to bring together all pursuers and all pursued—Francis and -Henry and Leoncia and their party; the peon; the party of the -haciendados; and the gendarmes of the Jefe, and, along with them, -Alvarez Torres, eager to win for himself not only the promised reward of -Thomas Regan but the possession of Leoncia Solano. - -In a cave sat a man and a woman. Pretty the latter was, and young, a -_mestiza_, or half-caste woman. By the light of a cheap kerosene lamp -she read aloud from a calf-bound tome which was a Spanish translation of -Blackstone. Both were barefooted and bare-armed, clad in hooded -gabardines of sackcloth. Her hood lay back on her shoulders, exposing -her black and generous head of hair. But the old man’s hood was cowled -about his head after the fashion of a monk. The face, lofty and ascetic, -beaked with power, was pure Spanish. Don Quixote might have worn -precisely a similar face. But there was a difference. The eyes of this -old man were closed in the perpetual dark of the blind. Never could he -behold a windmill at which to tilt. - -He sat, while the pretty _mestiza_ read to him, listening and brooding, -for all the world in the pose of Rodin’s “Thinker.” Nor was he a -dreamer, nor a tilter of windmills, like Don Quixote. Despite his -blindness, that ever veiled the apparent face of the world in -invisibility, he was a man of action, and his soul was anything but -blind, penetrating unerringly beneath the show of things to the heart -and the soul of the world and reading its inmost sins and rapacities and -noblenesses and virtues. - -He lifted his hand and put a pause in the reading, while he thought -aloud from the context of the reading. - -“The law of man,” he said with slow certitude, “is to-day a game of -wits. Not equity, but wit, is the game of law to-day. The law in its -inception was good; but the way of the law, the practice of it, has led -men off into false pursuits. They have mistaken the way for the goal, -the means for the end. Yet is law law, and necessary, and good. Only, -law, in its practice to-day, has gone astray. Judges and lawyers engage -in competitions and affrays of wit and learning, quite forgetting the -plaintiffs and defendants, before them and paying them, who are seeking -equity and justice and not wit and learning. - -“Yet is old Blackstone right. Under it all, at the bottom of it all, at -the beginning of the building of the edifice of the law, is the quest, -the earnest and sincere quest of righteous men, for justice and equity. -But what is it that the Preacher said? ‘They made themselves many -inventions.’ And the law, good in its beginning, has been invented out -of all its intent, so that it serves neither litigants nor injured ones, -but merely the fatted judges and the lean and hungry lawyers who achieve -names and paunches if they prove themselves cleverer than their -opponents and than the judges who render decision.” - -He paused, still posed as Rodin’s “Thinker,” and meditated, while the -_mestiza_ woman waited his customary signal to resume the reading. At -last, as out of a profound of thought in which universes had been -weighed in the balance, he spoke: - -“But we have law, here in the Cordilleras of Panama, that is just and -right and all of equity. We work for no man and serve not even paunches. -Sack-cloth and not broadcloth conduces to the equity of judicial -decision. Read on, Mercedes. Blackstone is always right if always -rightly read—which is what is called a paradox, and is what modern law -ordinarily is, a paradox. Read on. Blackstone is the very foundation of -human law—but, oh, how many wrongs are cleverly committed by clever men -in his name!” - -Ten minutes later, the blind thinker raised his head, sniffed the air, -and gestured the girl to pause. Taking her cue from him, she, too, -sniffed: - -“Perhaps it is the lamp, O Just One,” she suggested. - -“It is burning oil,” he said. “But it is not the lamp. It is from far -away. Also, have I heard shooting in the canyons.” - -“I heard nothing——” she began. - -“Daughter, you who see have not the need to hear that I have. There have -been many shots fired in the canyons. Order my children to investigate -and make report.” - -Bowing reverently to the old man who could not see but who, by -keen-trained hearing and conscious timing of her every muscular action, -knew that she had bowed, the young woman lifted the curtain of blankets -and passed out into the day. At either side the cave-mouth sat a man of -the peon class. Each was armed with rifle and machete, while through -their girdles were thrust naked-bladed knives. At the girl’s order, both -arose and bowed, not to her, but to the command and the invisible source -of the command. One of them tapped with the back of his machete against -the stone upon which he had been sitting, then laid his ear to the stone -and listened. In truth, the stone was but the out-jut of a vein of -metalliferous ore that extended across and through the heart of the -mountain. And beyond, on the opposite slope, in an eyrie commanding the -magnificent panorama of the descending slopes of the Cordilleras, sat -another peon who first listened with his ear pressed to similar -metalliferous quartz, and next tapped response with his machete. After -that, he stepped half a dozen paces to a tall tree, half-dead, reached -into the hollow heart of it, and pulled on the rope within as a man -might pull who was ringing a steeple bell. - -But no sound was evoked. Instead, a lofty branch, fifty feet above his -head, sticking out from the main-trunk like a semaphore arm, moved up -and down like the semaphore arm it was. Two miles away, on a mountain -crest, the branch of a similar semaphore tree replied. Still beyond -that, and farther down the slopes, the flashing of a hand-mirror in the -sun heliographed the relaying of the blind man’s message from the cave. -And all that portion of the Cordilleras became voluble with coded speech -of vibrating ore-veins, sun-flashings, and waving tree-branches. - - * * * * * - -While Enrico Solano, slenderly erect on his horse as an Indian youth and -convoyed on either side by his sons, Alesandro and Ricardo, hanging to -his saddle trappings, made the best of the time afforded them by -Francis’ rearguard battle with the gendarmes, Leoncia, on her mount, and -Henry Morgan, lagged behind. One or the other was continually glancing -back for the sight of Francis overtaking them. Watching his opportunity, -Henry took the back-trail. Five minutes afterward, Leoncia, no less -anxious than he for Francis’ safety, tried to turn her horse about. But -the animal, eager for the companionship of its mate ahead, refused to -obey the rein, cut up and pranced, and then deliberately settled into a -balk. Dismounting and throwing her reins on the ground in the Panamanian -method of tethering a saddle horse, Leoncia took the back-trail on foot. -So rapidly did she follow Henry, that she was almost treading on his -heels when he encountered Francis and the peon. The next moment, both -Henry and Francis were chiding her for her conduct; but in both their -voices was the involuntary tenderness of love, which pleased neither to -hear the other uttering. - -Their hearts more active than their heads, they were caught in total -surprise by the party of haciendados that dashed out upon them with -covering rifles from the surrounding jungle. Despite the fact that they -had thus captured the runaway peon, whom they proceeded to kick and -cuff, all would have been well with Leoncia and the two Morgans had the -owner of the peon, the old-time friend of the Solano family, been -present. But an attack of the malarial fever, which was his due every -third day, had stretched him out in a chill near the burning oilfield. - -Nevertheless, though by their blows they reduced the peon to weepings -and pleadings on his knees, the haciendados were courteously gentle to -Leoncia and quite decent to Francis and Henry, even though they tied the -hands of the latter two behind them in preparation for the march up the -ravine slope to where the horses had been left. But upon the peon, with -Latin-American cruelty, they continued to reiterate their rage. - -Yet were they destined to arrive nowhere, by themselves, with their -captives. Shouts of joy heralded the debouchment upon the scene of the -Jefe’s gendarmes and of the Jefe and Alvarez Torres. Arose at once the -rapid-fire, staccato, bastard-Latin of all men of both parties of -pursuers, trying to explain and demanding explanation at one and the -same time. And while the farrago of all talking simultaneously and of no -one winning anywhere in understanding, made anarchy of speech, Torres, -with a nod to Francis and a sneer of triumph to Henry, ranged before -Leoncia and bowed low to her in true and deep hidalgo courtesy and -respect. - -“Listen!” he said, low-voiced, as she rebuffed him with an arm movement -of repulsion. “Do not misunderstand me. Do not mistake me. I am here to -save you, and, no matter what may happen, to protect you. You are the -lady of my dreams. I will die for you—yes, and gladly, though far more -gladly would I live for you.” - -“I do not understand,” she replied curtly. “I do not see life or death -in the issue. We have done no wrong. I have done no wrong, nor has my -father. Nor has Francis Morgan, nor has Henry Morgan. Therefore, sir, -the matter is not a question of life or death.” - -Henry and Francis, shouldering close to Leoncia, on either side, -listened and caught through the hubble-bubble of many voices the -conversation of Leoncia and Torres. - -“It is a question absolute of certain death by execution for Henry -Morgan,” Torres persisted. “Proven beyond doubt is his conviction for -the murder of Alfaro Solano, who was your own full-blood uncle and your -father’s own full-blood brother. There is no chance to save Henry -Morgan. But Francis Morgan can I save in all surety, if——” - -“If?” Leoncia queried, with almost the snap of jaws of a she-leopard. - -“If ... you prove kind to me, and marry me,” Torres said with -magnificent steadiness, although two Gringos, helpless, their hands tied -behind their backs, glared at him through their eyes their common desire -for his immediate extinction. - -Torres, in a genuine outburst of his passion, though his rapid glances -had assured him of the helplessness of the two Morgans, seized her hands -in his and urged: - -“Leoncia, as your husband I might be able to do something for Henry. -Even may it be possible for me to save his life and his neck, if he will -yield to leaving Panama immediately.” - -“You Spanish dog!” Henry snarled at him, struggling with his tied hands -behind his back in an effort to free them. - -“Gringo cur!” Torres retorted, as, with an open backhanded blow, he -struck Henry on the mouth. - -On the instant Henry’s foot shot out, and the kick in Torres’ side drove -him staggering in the direction of Francis, who was no less quick with a -kick of his own. Back and forth like a shuttlecock between the -battledores, Torres was kicked from one man to the other, until the -gendarmes seized the two Gringos and began to beat them in their -helplessness. Torres not only urged the gendarmes on, but himself drew a -knife; and a red tragedy might have happened with offended -Latin-American blood up and raging, had not a score or more of armed men -silently appeared and silently taken charge of the situation. Some of -the mysterious newcomers were clad in cotton singlets and trousers, and -others were in cowled gabardines of sackcloth. - -The gendarmes and haciendados recoiled in fear, crossing themselves, -muttering prayers and ejaculating: “The Blind Brigand!” “The Cruel Just -One!” “They are his people!” “We are lost.” - -But the much-beaten peon sprang forward and fell on his bleeding knees -before a stern-faced man who appeared to be the leader of the Blind -Brigand’s men. From the mouth of the peon poured forth a stream of loud -lamentation and outcry for justice. - -“You know that justice to which you appeal?” the leader spoke -gutturally. - -“Yes, the Cruel Justice,” the peon replied. “I know what it means to -appeal to the Cruel Justice, yet do I appeal, for I seek justice and my -cause is just.” - -“I, too, demand the Cruel Justice!” Leoncia cried with flashing eyes, -although she added in an undertone to Francis and Henry: “Whatever the -Cruel Justice is.” - -“It will have to go some to be unfairer than the justice we can expect -from Torres and the Jefe,” Henry replied in similar undertones, then -stepped forward boldly before the cowled leader and said loudly: “And I -demand the Cruel Justice.” - -The leader nodded. - -“Me, too,” Francis murmured low, and then made loud demand. - -The gendarmes did not seem to count in the matter, while the haciendados -signified their willingness to abide by whatever justice the Blind -Brigand might mete out to them. Only the Jefe objected. - -“Maybe you don’t know who I am,” he blustered. “I am Mariano Vercara è -Hijos, of long illustrious name and long and honorable career. I am Jefe -Politico of San Antonio, the highest friend of the governor, and high in -the confidence of the government of the Republic of Panama. I am the -law. There is but one law and one justice, which is of Panama and not -the Cordilleras. I protest against this mountain law you call the Cruel -Justice. I shall send an army against your Blind Brigand, and the -buzzards will peck his bones in San Juan.” - -“Remember,” Torres sarcastically warned the irate Jefe, “that this is -not San Antonio, but the bush of Juchitan. Also, you have no army.” - -“Have these two men been unjust to any one who has appealed to the Cruel -Justice?” the leader asked abruptly. - -“Yes,” asseverated the peon. “They have beaten me. Everybody has beaten -me. They, too, have beaten me and without cause. My hand is bloody. My -body is bruised and torn. Again I appeal to the Cruel Justice, and I -charge these two men with injustice.” - -The leader nodded and to his own men indicated the disarming of the -prisoners and the order of the march. - -“Justice!—I demand equal justice!” Henry cried out. “My hands are tied -behind my back. All hands should be so tied, or no hands be so tied. -Besides, it is very difficult to walk when one is so tied.” - -The shadow of a smile drifted the lips of the leader as he directed his -men to cut the lashings that invidiously advertised the inequality -complained of. - -“Huh!” Francis grinned to Leoncia and Henry. “I have a vague memory that -somewhere around a million years ago I used to live in a quiet little -old burg called New York, where we foolishly thought we were the wildest -and wickedest that ever cracked at a golf ball, electrocuted an -Inspector of Police, battled with Tammany, or bid four nullos with five -sure tricks in one’s own hand.” - -“Huh!” Henry vouchsafed half an hour later, as the trail, from a lesser -crest, afforded a view of higher crests beyond. “Huh! and hell’s bells! -These gunny-sack chaps are not animals of savages. Look, Henry! They are -semaphoring! See that near tree there, and that big one across the -canyon. Watch the branches wave.” - - * * * * * - -Blindfold for a number of miles at the last, the prisoners, still -blindfolded, were led into the cave where the Cruel Justice reigned. -When the bandages were removed, they found themselves in a vast and -lofty cavern, lighted by many torches, and, confronting them, a blind -and white-haired man in sackcloth seated on a rock-hewn throne, with, -beneath him, her shoulder at his knees, a pretty mestiza woman. - -The blind man spoke, and in his voice was the thin and bell-like silver -of age and weary wisdom. - -“The Cruel Justice has been invoked. Speak! Who demands decision and -equity?” - -All held back, and not even the Jefe could summon heart of courage to -protest against Cordilleras law. - -“There is a woman present,” continued the Blind Brigand. “Let her speak -first. All mortal men and women are guilty of something or else are -charged by their fellows with some guilt.” - -Henry and Francis were for with-straining her, but with an equal smile -to them she addressed the Cruel Just One in clear and ringing tones: - -“I only have aided the man I am engaged to marry to escape from death -for a murder he did not commit.” - -“You have spoken,” said the Blind Brigand. “Come forward to me.” - -Piloted by sackcloth men, while the two Morgans who loved her were -restless and perturbed, she was made to kneel at the blind man’s knees. -The mestiza girl placed his hand on Leoncia’s head. For a full and -solemn minute silence obtained, while the steady fingers of the Blind -One rested about her forehead and registered the pulse-beats of her -temples. Then he removed his hand and leaned back to decision. - -“Arise, Senorita,” he pronounced. “Your heart is clean of evil. You go -free.—Who else appeals to the Cruel Justice?” - -Francis immediately stepped forward. - -“I likewise helped the man to escape from an undeserved death. The man -and I are of the same name, and, distantly, of the same blood.” - -He, too, knelt, and felt the soft finger-lobes play delicately over his -brows and temples and come to rest finally on the pulse of his wrist. - -“It is not all clear to me,” said the Blind One. “You are not at rest -nor at peace with your soul. There is trouble within you that vexes -you.” - -Suddenly the peon stepped forth and spoke unbidden, his voice evoking a -thrill as of the shock of blasphemy from the sackcloth men. - -“Oh, Just One, let this man go,” said the peon passionately. “Twice was -I weak and betrayed him to his enemy this day, and twice this day has he -protected me from my enemy and saved me.” - -And the peon, once again on his knees, but this time at the knees of -justice, thrilled and shivered with superstitious awe, as he felt wander -over him the light but firm finger-touches of the strangest judge man -ever knelt before. Bruises and lacerations were swiftly explored even to -the shoulders and down the back. - -“The other man goes free,” the Cruel Just One announced. “Yet is there -trouble and unrest within him. Is one here who knows and will speak up?” - -And Francis knew on the instant the trouble the blind man had divined -within him—the full love that burned in him for Leoncia and that -threatened to shatter the full loyalty he must ever bear to Henry. No -less quick was Leoncia in knowing, and could the blind man have beheld -the involuntary glance of knowledge the man and woman threw at each -other and the immediate embarrassment of averted eyes, he could have -unerringly diagnosed Francis’ trouble. The mestiza girl saw, and with a -leap at her heart scented a love affair. Likewise had Henry seen and -unconsciously scowled. - -The Just One spoke: - -“An affair of heart undoubtedly,” he dismissed the matter. “The eternal -vexation of woman in the heart of man. Nevertheless, this man stands -free. Twice, in the one day, has he succored the man who twice betrayed -him. Nor has the trouble within him aught to do with the aid he rendered -the man said to be sentenced to death undeserved. Remains to question -this last man; also to settle for this beaten creature before me who -twice this day has proved weak out of selfishness, and who has just now -proved bravely strong out of unselfishness for another.” - -He leaned forward and played his fingers searchingly over the face and -brows of the peon. - -“Are you afraid to die?” he asked suddenly. - -“Great and Holy One, I am sore afraid to die,” was the peon’s reply. - -“Then say that you have lied about this man, say that his twice -succoring of you was a lie, and you shall live.” - -Under the Blind One’s fingers the peon cringed and wilted. - -“Think well,” came the solemn warning. “Death is not good. To be forever -unmoving, as the clod and rock, is not good. Say that you have lied and -life is yours. Speak!” - -But, although his voice shook from the exquisiteness of his fear, the -peon rose to the full spiritual stature of a man. - -“Twice this day did I betray him, Holy One. But my name is not Peter. -Not thrice in this day will I betray him. I am sore afraid, but I cannot -betray him thrice.” - -The blind judge leaned back and his face beamed and glowed as if -transfigured. - -“Well spoken,” he said. “You have the makings of a man. I now lay my -sentence upon you: From now on, through all your days under the sun, you -shall always think like a man, act like a man, be a man. Better to die a -man any time, than live a beast forever in time. The Ecclesiast was -wrong. A dead lion is always better than a live dog. Go free, regenerate -son, go free.” - -But, as the peon, at a signal from the mestiza, started to rise, the -blind judge stopped him. - -“In the beginning, O man who but this day has been born man, what was -the cause of all your troubles?” - -“My heart was weak and hungry, O Holy One, for a mixed-breed woman of -the tierra caliente. I myself am mountain born. For her I put myself in -debt to the haciendado for the sum of two hundred pesos. She fled with -the money and another man. I remained the slave of the haciendado, who -is not a bad man, but who, first and always, is a haciendado. I have -toiled, been beaten, and have suffered for five long years, and my debt -is now become two hundred and fifty pesos, and yet I possess naught but -these rags and a body weak from insufficient food.” - -“Was she wonderful?—this woman of the tierra caliente?” the blind judge -queried softly. - -“I was mad for her, Holy One. I do not think now that she was wonderful. -But she was wonderful then. The fever of her burned my heart and brain -and made a task-slave of me, though she fled in the night and I knew her -never again.” - -The peon waited, on his knees, with bowed head, while, to the amazement -of all, the Blind Brigand sighed deeply and seemed to forget time and -place. His hand strayed involuntarily and automatically to the head of -the mestiza, caressed the shining black hair and continued to caress it -while he spoke. - -“The woman,” he said, with such gentleness that his voice, still clear -and bell-like, was barely above a whisper. “Ever the woman wonderful. -All women are wonderful ... to man. They love our fathers; they birth -us; we love them; they birth our sons to love their daughters and to -call their daughters wonderful; and this has always been and shall -continue always to be until the end of man’s time and man’s loving on -earth.” - -A profound of silence fell within the cavern, while the Cruel Just One -meditated for a space. At the last, with a touch dared of familiarity, -the pretty mestiza touched him and roused him to remembrance of the peon -still crouching at his feet. - -“I pronounce judgment,” he spoke. “You have received many blows. Each -blow on your body is quittance in full of the entire debt to the -haciendado. Go free. But remain in the mountains, and next time love a -mountain woman, since woman you must have, and since woman is inevitable -and eternal in the affairs of men. Go free. You are half Maya?” - -“I am half Maya,” the peon murmured. “My father is a Maya.” - -“Arise and go free. And remain in the mountains with your Maya father. -The tierra caliente is no place for the Cordilleras-born. The haciendado -is not present, and therefore cannot be judged. And after all he is but -a haciendado. His fellow haciendados, too, go free.” - -The Cruel Just One waited, and, without waiting, Henry stepped forward. - -“I am the man,” he stated boldly, “sentenced to the death undeserved for -the killing of a man I did not kill. He was the blood-uncle of the girl -I love, whom I shall marry if there be true justice here in this cave in -the Cordilleras.” - -But the Jefe interrupted. - -“Before a score of witnesses he threatened to his face to kill the man. -Within the hour we found him bending over the man’s dead body that was -yet warm and limber with departing life.” - -“He speaks true,” Henry affirmed. “I did threaten the man, both of us -heady from strong drink and hot blood. I was so found, bending over his -dead warm body. Yet did I not kill him. Nor do I know, nor can I guess, -the coward hand in the dark that knifed out his life through the back -from behind.” - -“Kneel both of you, that I may interrogate you,” the Blind Brigand -commanded. - -Long he interrogated with his sensitive, questioning fingers. Long, and -still longer, unable to attain decision, his fingers played over the -faces and pulses of the two men. - -“Is there a woman?” he asked Henry Morgan pointedly. - -“A woman wonderful. I love her.” - -“It is good to be so vexed, for a man unvexed by woman is only half a -man,” the blind judge vouchsafed. He addressed the Jefe. “No woman vexes -you, yet are you troubled. But this man”—indicating Henry—“I cannot tell -if all his vexation be due to woman. Perhaps, in part, it may be due to -you, or to what some prompting of evil may make him meditate against -you. Stand up, both men of you. I cannot judge between you. Yet is there -the test infallible, the test of the Snake and the Bird. Infallible it -is, as God is infallible, for by such ways does God still maintain truth -in the affairs of men. As well does Blackstone mention just such methods -of determining the truth by trial and ordeal.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - -To all intents it might have been a tiny bull-ring, that pit in the -heart of the Blind Brigand’s domain. Ten feet in depth and thirty in -diameter, with level floor and perpendicular wall, its natural formation -had required little work at the hands of man to complete its symmetry. -The sackcloth men, the haciendados, the gendarmes—all were present, save -for the Cruel Just One and the mestiza, and all were lined about the rim -of the pit, as an audience, to gaze down upon some bull-fight or -gladiatorial combat within the pit. - -At command of the stern-faced leader of the sackcloth men who had -captured them, Henry and the Jefe descended down a short ladder into the -pit. The leader and several of the brigands accompanied them. - -“Heaven alone knows what’s going to happen,” Henry laughed up in English -to Leoncia and Francis. “But if it’s rough and tumble, bite and gouge, -or Marquis of Queensbury or London Prize Ring, Mister Fat Jefe is my -meat. But that old blind one is clever, and the chances are he’s going -to put us at each other on some basis of evenness. In which case, do -you, my audience, if he gets me down, stick your thumbs up and make all -the noise you can. Depend upon it, if it’s he that’s down, all his crowd -will be thumbs up.” - -The Jefe, overcome by the trap into which he had descended, in Spanish -addressed the leader. - -“I shall not fight with this man. He is younger than I, and has better -wind. Also, the affair is illegal. It is not according to the law of the -Republic of Panama. It is extra-territorial and entirely unjudicial.” - -“It is the Snake and the Bird,” the leader shut him off. “You shall be -the Snake. This rifle shall be in your hands. The other man shall be the -Bird. In his hand shall be the bell. Behold! Thus may you understand the -ordeal.” - -At his command, one of the brigands was given the rifle and was -blindfolded. To another brigand, not blindfolded, was given a silver -bell. - -“The man with the rifle is the Snake,” said the leader. “He has one shot -at the Bird who carries the bell.” - -At signal to begin, the bandit with the bell, tinkled it at extended -arm’s length and sprang swiftly aside. The man with the rifle lowered it -as if to fire at the space just vacated and pretended to fire. - -“You understand?” the leader demanded of Henry and the Jefe. - -The former nodded, but the latter cried exultantly: - -“And I am the Snake?” - -“You are the Snake,” affirmed the leader. - -And the Jefe was eager for the rifle, making no further protests against -the extra-territoriality of the proceedings. - -“Are you going to try to get me?” Henry warned the Jefe. - -“No, Senor Morgan. I am merely going to get you. I am one of the two -best shots in Panama. I have two score and more of medals. I can shoot -with my eyes shut. I can shoot in the dark. I have often shot, and with -precision, in the dark. Already may you count yourself a dead man.” - -Only one cartridge was put into the rifle, ere it was handed to the Jefe -after he was blindfolded. Next, while Henry, equipped with the tell-tale -bell, was stationed directly across the pit, the Jefe was faced to the -wall and kept there while the brigands climbed out of the pit and drew -the ladder up after them. The leader, from above, spoke down: - -“Listen carefully, Senor Snake, and make no move until you have heard. -The Snake has but one shot. The Snake cannot tamper with his blindfold. -If he so tampers it is our duty to see that he immediately dies. The -Snake has no time limit. He may take the rest of the day, and all of the -night, and the remainder of eternity ere he fires his one shot. As for -the Bird, the one rule is that never must the bell leave his hand, and -never may he stop the clapper of it from making the full noise intended -of the clapper against the sides of the bell. Should he do so, then will -he immediately die. We are here above you, both of you Senors, rifles in -hand, to see that you die the second you infract any of the rules. And -now, God be with the right, proceed!” - -The Jefe turned slowly about and listened, while Henry, essaying -gingerly to move with the bell, caused it to tinkle. - -The rifle was quick to bear upon the sound, and to pursue it as Henry -ran. With a quick shift he transferred the bell to the other extended -hand and ran back in the opposite direction, the rifle sweeping after -him in inexorable pursuit. But the Jefe was too cunning to risk all on a -chance shot, and slowly advanced across the arena. Henry stood still, -and the bell made no sound. - -So unerringly had the Jefe’s ear located the last silvery tinkle, and so -straightly did he walk despite his blindfold, that he advanced just to -the right of Henry and directly at the bell. With infinite caution, -provoking no tinkle, Henry slightly raised his arm and permitted the -Jefe’s head to go under the bell with a bare inch of margin. - -His rifle pointed, and within a foot of the pit-wall, the Jefe halted in -indecision, listened vainly for a moment, then made a further stride -that collided the rifle muzzle with the wall. He whirled about, and, -with the rifle extended, like any blind man felt out the air-space for -his enemy. The muzzle would have touched Henry had he not sprung away on -a noisy and zig-zag course. - -In the center of the pit he came to a frozen pause. The Jefe stalked -past a yard to the side and collided with the opposite wall. He circled -the wall, walking cat-footed, his rifle forever feeling out into the -empty air. Next he ventured across the pit. After several such -crossings, during which the stationary bell gave him no clue, he adopted -a clever method. Tossing his hat on the ground for the mark of his -starting point, he crossed the edge of the pit on a shallow chord, -extended the chord by a pace farther along the wall, and felt his way -back along the new and longer chord. Again against the wall, he verified -the correctness of the parallelness of the two chords, by pacing back to -his hat. This time, with three paces along the wall from the hat, he -initiated his third chord. - -Thus he combed the area of the pit, and Henry saw that he could not -escape such combing. Nor did he wait to be discovered. Tinkling the bell -as he ran and zigzagged and exchanging it from one hand to the other, he -froze into immobility in a new place. - -The Jefe repeated the laborious combing out process; but Henry was not -minded longer to prolong the tension. He waited till the Jefe’s latest -chord brought him directly upon him. He waited till the rifle muzzle, -breast high, was within half a dozen inches of his heart. Then he -exploded into two simultaneous actions. He ducked lower than the rifle -and yelled “Fire!” in stentorian command. - -So startled, the Jefe pulled the trigger, and the bullet sped above -Henry’s head. From above, the sackcloth men applauded wildly. The Jefe -tore off his blindfold and saw the smiling face of his foe. - -“It is well—God has spoken,” announced the sackcloth leader, as he -descended into the pit. “The man uninjured is innocent. Remains now to -test the other man.” - -“Me?” the Jefe almost shouted in his surprise and consternation. - -“Greetings, Jefe,” Henry grinned. “You _did_ try to get me. It’s my turn -now. Pass over that rifle.” - -But the Jefe, with a curse, in his disappointment and rage forgetting -that the rifle had contained only one cartridge, thrust the muzzle -against Henry’s heart and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell with a -metallic click. - -“It is well,” said the leader, taking away the rifle and recharging it. -“Your conduct shall be reported. The test for you remains, yet must it -appear that you are not acting like God’s chosen man.” - -Like a beaten bull in the ring seeking a way to escape and gazing up at -the amphitheatre of pitiless faces, so the Jefe looked up and saw only -the rifles of the sackcloth men, the triumphing faces of Leoncia and -Francis, the curious looks of his own gendarmes, and the blood-eager -faces of the haciendados that were like the faces of any bull-fight -audience. - -The shadowy smile drifted the stern lips of the leader as he handed the -rifle to Henry and started to blindfold him. - -“Why don’t you make him face the wall until I’m ready?” the Jefe -demanded, as the silver bell tinkled in his passion-convulsed hand. - -“Because he is proven God’s man,” was the reply. “He has stood the test. -Therefore he cannot do a treacherous deed. You now must stand the test -of God. If you are true and honest, no harm can befall you from the -Snake. For such is God’s way.” - -Far more successful as the hunter than as the hunted one, did the Jefe -prove. Across the pit from Henry, he strove to stand motionless; but out -of nervousness, as Henry’s rifle swept around on him, his hand trembled -and the bell tinkled. The rifle came almost to rest and wavered -ominously about the sound. In vain the Jefe tried to control his flesh -and still the bell. - -But the bell tinkled on, and, in despair, he flung it away and threw -himself on the ground. But Henry, following the sound of his enemy’s -fall, lowered the rifle and pulled trigger. The Jefe yelled out in sharp -pain as the bullet perforated his shoulder, rose to his feet, cursed, -sprawled back on the ground, and lay there cursing. - - * * * * * - -Again in the cave, with the mestiza beside him at his knee, the Blind -Brigand gave judgment. - -“This man who is wounded and who talks much of the law of the tierra -caliente, shall now learn Cordilleras law. By the test of the Snake and -the Bird has he been proven guilty. For his life a ransom of ten -thousand dollars gold shall be paid, or else shall he remain here, a -hewer of wood and a carrier of water, for the remainder of the time God -shall grant him to draw breath on earth. I have spoken, and I know that -my voice is God’s voice, and I know that God will not grant him long to -draw breath if the ransom be not forthcoming.” - -A long silence obtained, during which even Henry, who could slay a foe -in the heat of combat, advertised that such cold-blooded promise of -murder was repugnant to him. - -“The law is pitiless,” said the Cruel Just One; and again silence fell. - -“Let him die for want of a ransom,” spoke one of the haciendados. “He -has proved a treacherous dog. Let him die a dog’s death.” - -“What say you?” the Blind Brigand asked solemnly. “What say you, peon of -the many beatings, man new-born this day, half-Maya that you are and -lover of the woman wonderful? Shall this man die the dog’s death for -want of a ransom?” - -“This man is a hard man,” spoke the peon. “Yet is my heart strangely -soft this day. Had I ten thousand gold I would pay his ransom myself. -Yea, O Holy One and Just, and had I two hundred and fifty pesos, even -would I pay off my debt to the haciendado of which I am absolved.” - -The old man’s blind face lighted up to transfiguration. - -“You, too, speak with God’s voice this day, regenerate one,” he -approved. - -But Francis, who had been scribbling hurriedly in his check book, handed -a check, still wet with the ink, to the mestiza. - -“I, too, speak,” he said. “Let not the man die the dog’s death he -deserves, proven treacherous hound that he is.” - -The mestiza read the check aloud. - -“It is not necessary to explain,” the Blind Brigand shut Francis off. “I -am a creature of reason, and have not lived always in the Cordilleras. I -was trained in business in Barcelona. I know the Chemical National Bank -of New York, and through my agents have had dealings with it aforetime. -The sum is for ten thousand dollars gold. This man who writes it has -told the truth already this day. The check is good. Further, I know he -will not stop payment. This man who thus pays the ransom of a foe is one -of three things: a very good man; a fool; or a very rich man. Tell me, O -Man, is there a woman wonderful?” - -And Francis, not daring to glance to right or left, at Leoncia or Henry, -but gazing straight before him on the Blind Brigand’s face, answered -because he felt he must so answer: - -“Yes, O Cruel Just One, there is a woman wonderful.” - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - -At the precise spot where they had been first blindfolded by the -sackcloth men, the cavalcade halted. It was composed of a number of the -sackcloth men; of Leoncia, Henry, and Francis, blindfolded and mounted -on mules; and of the peon, blindfolded and on foot. Similarly escorted, -the haciendados, and the Jefe and Torres with their gendarmes, had -preceded by half an hour. - -At permission given by the stern-faced leader, the captives, about to be -released, removed their blindfolds. - -“Seems I’ve been here before,” Henry laughed, looking about and -identifying the place. - -“Seems the oil-wells are still burning,” Francis said, pointing out half -the field of day that was eaten up by the black smoke-pall. “Peon, look -upon your handiwork. For a man who possesses nothing, you are the -biggest spender I ever met. I have heard of drunken oil-kings lighting -cigars with thousand dollar bank-notes, but here are you burning up a -million dollars a minute.” - -“I am not a poor man,” the peon boasted in proud mysteriousness. - -“A millionaire in disguise!” Henry twitted. - -“Where do you deposit?” was Leoncia’s contribution. “In the Chemical -National Bank?” - -The peon did not understand the allusions, but knew that he was being -made fun of, and drew himself up in proud silence. - -The stern leader spoke: - -“From this point you may now go your various ways. The Just One has so -commanded. You, senors, will dismount and turn over to me your mules. As -for the senorita, she may retain her mule as a present from the Just -One, who would not care to be responsible for compelling any senorita to -walk. The two senors, without hardship, may walk. Especially has the -Just One recommended walking for the rich senor. The possession of -riches, he advised, leads to too little walking. Too little walking -leads to stoutness; and stoutness does not lead to the woman wonderful. -Such is the wisdom of the Just One.” - -“Further, he has repeated his advice to the peon to remain in the -mountains. In the mountains he will find his woman wonderful, since -woman he must have; and it is wisest that such woman be of his own -breed. The woman of the tierra caliente are for the men of the tierra -caliente. The Cordilleras women are for the Cordilleras men. God -dislikes mixed breeds. A mule is abhorrent under the sun. The world was -not intended for mixed breeds, but man has made for himself many -inventions. Pure races interbred leads to impurity. Neither will oil nor -water congenially intermingle. Since kind begets kind, only kind should -mate. Such are the words of the Just One which I have repeated as -commanded. And he has especially impressed upon me to add that he knows -whereof he speaks, for he, too, has sinned in just such ways.” - -And Henry and Francis, of Anglo-Saxon stock, and Leoncia of the Latin, -knew perturbation and embarrassment as the vicarious judgment of the -Blind Brigand sank home. And Leoncia, with her splendid eyes of woman, -would have appealed protest to either man she loved, had the other been -absent; while both Henry and Francis would have voiced protest to -Leoncia had either of them been alone with her. And yet, under it all, -deep down, uncannily, was a sense of the correctness of the Blind -Brigand’s thought. And heavily, on the heart of each, rested the burden -of the conscious oppression of sin. - -A crashing and scrambling in the brush diverted their train of thought, -as descending the canyon slope on desperately slipping and sliding -horses, appeared on the scene the haciendado with several followers. His -greeting of the daughter of the Solanos was hidalgo-like and profound, -and only less was the heartiness of his greeting to the two men for whom -Enrico Solano had stood sponsor. - -“Where is your noble father?” he asked Leoncia. “I have good news for -him. In the week since I last saw you, I have been sick with fever and -encamped. But by swift messengers, and favoring winds across Chiriqui -Lagoon to Bocas del Toro, I have used the government wireless—the Jefe -of Bocas del Toro is my friend—and have communicated with the President -of Panama—who is my ancient comrade whose nose I rubbed as often in the -dirt as did he mine in the boyhood days when we were schoolmates and -cubicle-mates together at Colon. And the word has come back that all is -well; that justice has miscarried in the court at San Antonio from the -too great but none the less worthy zeal of the Jefe Politico; and that -all is forgiven, pardoned, and forever legally and politically forgotten -against all of the noble Solano family and their two noble Gringo -friends——” - -Here, the haciendado bowed low to Henry and Francis. And here, skulking -behind Leoncia’s uncle, his eyes chanced to light on the peon; and, so -lighting, his eyes blazed with triumph. - -“Mother of God, thou has not forgotten me!” he breathed fervently, then -turned to the several friends who accompanied him. “There he is, the -creature without reason or shame who has fled his debt of me. Seize him! -I shall put him on his back for a month from the beating he shall -receive!” - -So speaking, the haciendado sprang around the rump of Leoncia’s mule; -and the peon, ducking under the mule’s nose, would have won to the -freedom of the jungle, had not another of the haciendados, with quick -spurs to his horse’s sides, cut him off and run him down. In a trice, -used to just such work, the haciendados had the luckless wight on his -feet, his hands tied behind him, a lead-rope made fast around his neck. - -In one voice Francis and Henry protested. - -“Senors,” the haciendado replied, “my respect and consideration and -desire to serve you are as deep as for the noble Solano family under -whose protection you are. Your safety and comfort are sacred to me. I -will defend you from harm with my life. I am yours to command. My -hacienda is yours, likewise all I possess. But this matter of this peon -is entirely another matter. He is none of yours. He is _my_ peon, in -_my_ debt, who has run away from _my_ hacienda. You will understand and -forgive me, I trust. This is a mere matter of property. He is _my_ -property.” - -Henry and Francis glanced at each other in mutual perplexity and -indecision. It was the law of the land, as they thoroughly knew. - -“The Cruel Just One did remit my debt, as all here will witness,” the -peon whispered. - -“It is true, the Cruel Justice remitted his debt,” Leoncia verified. - -The haciendado smiled and bowed low. - -“But the peon contracted with me,” he smiled. “And who is the Blind -Brigand that his foolish law shall operate on my plantation and rob me -of my rightful two hundred and fifty pesos?” - -“He’s right, Leoncia,” Henry admitted. - -“Then will I go back to the high Cordilleras,” the peon asserted. “Oh, -you men of the Cruel Just One, take me back to the Cordilleras.” - -But the stern leader shook his head. - -“Here you were released. Our orders went no further. No further -jurisdiction have we over you. We shall now bid farewell and depart.” - -“Hold on!” Francis cried, pulling out his check book and beginning to -write. “Wait a moment. I must settle for this peon now. Next, before you -depart, I have a favor to ask of you.” - -He passed the check to the haciendado, saying: - -“I have allowed ten pesos for the exchange.” - -The haciendado glanced at the check, folded it away in his pocket, and -placed the end of the rope around the wretched creature’s neck in -Francis’ hand. - -“The peon is now yours,” he said. - -Francis looked at the rope and laughed. - -“Behold! I now own a human chattel. Slave, you are mine, my property -now, do you understand?” - -“Yes, Senor,” the peon muttered humbly. “It seems, when I became mad for -the woman I gave up my freedom for, that God destined me always -afterward to be the property of some man. The Cruel Just One is right. -It is God’s punishment for mating outside my race.” - -“You made a slave of yourself for what the world has always considered -the best of all causes, a woman,” Francis observed, cutting the thongs -that bound the peon’s hands. “And so, I make a present of you to -yourself.” So saying, he placed the neck-rope in the peon’s hand. -“Henceforth, lead yourself, and put not that rope in any man’s hand.” - -While the foregoing had been taking place, a lean old man, on foot, had -noiselessly joined the circle. Maya Indian he was, pure-blooded, with -ribs that corrugated plainly through his parchment-like skin. Only a -breech-clout covered his nakedness. His unkempt hair hung in dirty-gray -tangles about his face, which was high-cheeked and emaciated to -cadaverousness. Strings of muscles showed for his calves and biceps. A -few scattered snags of teeth were visible between his withered lips. The -hollows under his cheek-bones were prodigious. While his eyes, beads of -black, deep-sunk in their sockets, burned with the wild light of a -patient in fever. - -He slipped eel-like through the circle and clasped the peon in his -skeleton-like arms. - -“He is my father,” proclaimed the peon proudly. “Look at him. He is pure -Maya, and he knows the secrets of the Mayas.” - -And while the two re-united ones talked endless explanations, Francis -preferred his request to the sackcloth leader to find Enrico Solano and -his two sons, wandering somewhere in the mountains, and to tell them -that they were free of all claims of the law and to return home. - -“They have done no wrong?” the leader demanded. - -“No; they have done no wrong,” Francis assured him. - -“Then it is well. I promise you to find them immediately, for we know -the direction of their wandering, and to send them down to the coast to -join you.” - -“And in the meantime shall you be my guests while you wait,” the -haciendado invited eagerly. “There is a freight schooner at anchor in -Juchitan Inlet now off my plantation, and sailing for San Antonio. I can -hold her until the noble Enrico and his sons come down from the -Cordilleras.” - -“And Francis will pay the demurrage, of course,” Henry interpolated with -a sly sting that Leoncia caught, although it missed Francis, who cried -joyously: - -“Of course I will. And it proves my contention that a checkbook is -pretty good to have anywhere.” - -To their surprise, when they had parted from the sackcloth men, the peon -and his Indian father attached themselves to the Morgans, and journeyed -down through the burning oil-fields to the plantation which had been the -scene of the peon’s slavery. Both father and son were unremitting in -their devotion, first of all to Francis, and, next, to Leoncia and -Henry. More than once they noted father and son in long and earnest -conversations; and, after Enrico and his sons had arrived, when the -party went down to the beach to board the waiting schooner, the peon and -his Maya parent followed along. Francis essayed to say farewell to them -on the beach, but the peon stated that the pair of them were likewise -journeying on the schooner. - -“I have told you that I was not a poor man,” the peon explained, after -they had drawn the party aside from the waiting sailors. “This is true. -The hidden treasure of the Mayas, which the conquistadores and the -priests of the Inquisition could never find, is in my keeping. Or, to be -very true, is in my father’s keeping. He is the descendant, in the -straight line, from the ancient high priest of the Mayas. He is the last -high priest. He and I have talked much and long. And we are agreed that -riches do not make life. You bought me for two hundred and fifty pesos, -yet you made me free, gave me back to myself. The gift of a man’s life -is greater than all the treasure in the world. So are we agreed, my -father and I. And so, since it is the way of Gringos and Spaniards to -desire treasure, we will lead you to the Maya treasure, my father and I, -my father knowing the way. And the way into the mountains begins from -San Antonio and not from Juchitan.” - -“Does your father know the location of the treasure?—just where it is?” -Henry demanded, with an aside to Francis that this was the very Maya -treasure that had led him to abandon the quest for Morgan’s gold on the -Calf and to take to the mainland. - -The peon shook his head. - -“My father has never been to it. He was not interested in it, caring not -for wealth for himself. Father, bring forth the tale written in our -ancient language which you alone of living Mayas can read.” - -From within his loin-cloth the old man drew forth a dirty and -much-frayed canvas bag. Out of this he pulled what looked like a snarl -of knotted strings. But the strings were twisted sennit of some fibrous -forest bark, so ancient that they threatened to crumble as he handled -them, while from under the touch and manipulation of his fingers a fine -powder of decay arose. Muttering and mumbling prayers in the ancient -Maya tongue, he held up the snarl of knots, and bowed reverently before -it ere he shook it out. - -“The knot-writing, the lost written language of the Mayas,” Henry -breathed softly. “This is the real thing, if only the old geezer hasn’t -forgotten how to read it.” - -All heads bent curiously toward it as it was handed to Francis. It was -in the form of a crude tassel, composed of many thin, long strings. Not -alone were the knots, and various kinds of knots, tied at irregular -intervals in the strings, but the strings themselves were of varying -lengths and diameters. He ran them through his fingers, mumbling and -muttering. - -“He reads!” cried the peon triumphantly. “All our old language is there -in those knots, and he reads them as any man may read a book.” - -Bending closer to observe, Francis and Leoncia’s hair touched, and, in -the thrill of the immediately broken contact, their eyes met, producing -the second thrill as they separated. But Henry, all eagerness, did not -observe. He had eyes only for the mystic tassel. - -“What d’you say, Francis?” he murmured. “It’s big! It’s big!” - -“But New York is beginning to call,” Francis demurred. “Oh, not its -people and its fun, but its business,” he added hastily, as he sensed -Leoncia’s unuttered reproach and hurt. “Don’t forget, I’m mixed up in -Tampico Petroleum and the stock market, and I hate to think how many -millions are involved.” - -“Hell’s bells!” Henry ejaculated. “The Maya treasure, if a tithe of what -they say about its immensity be true, could be cut three ways between -Enrico, you and me, and make each of us richer than you are now.” - -Still Francis was undecided, and, while Enrico expanded on the -authenticity of the treasure, Leoncia managed to query in an undertone -in Francis’ ear: - -“Have you so soon tired of ... of treasure-hunting?” - -He looked at her keenly, and down at her engagement ring, as he answered -in the same low tones: - -“How can I stay longer in this country, loving you as I do, while you -love Henry?” - -It was the first time he had openly avowed his love, and Leoncia knew -the swift surge of joy, followed by the no less swift surge of mantling -shame that she, a woman who had always esteemed herself good, could love -two men at the same time. She glanced at Henry, as if to verify her -heart, and her heart answered yes. As truly did she love Henry as she -did Francis, and the emotion seemed similar where the two were similar, -different where they were different. - -“I’m afraid I’ll have to connect up with the _Angelique_, most likely at -Bocas del Toro, and get away,” Francis told Henry. “You and Enrico can -find the treasure and split it two ways.” - -But the peon, having heard, broke into quick speech with his father, -and, next, with Henry. - -“You hear what he says, Francis,” the latter said, holding up the sacred -tassel. “You’ve got to go with us. It is you he feels grateful to for -his son. He isn’t giving the treasure to us, but to you. And if you -don’t go, he won’t read a knot of the writing.” - -But it was Leoncia, looking at Francis with quiet wistfulness of -pleading, seeming all but to say, “Please, for my sake,” who really -caused Francis to reverse his decision. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - -A week later, out of San Antonio on a single day, three separate -expeditions started for the Cordilleras. The first, mounted on mules, -was composed of Henry, Francis, the peon and his ancient parent, and of -several of the Solano peons, each leading a pack-mule, burdened with -supplies and outfit. Old Enrico Solano, at the last moment, had been -prevented from accompanying the party because of the bursting open of an -old wound received in the revolutionary fighting of his youth. - -Up the main street of San Antonio the cavalcade proceeded, passing the -jail, the wall of which Francis had dynamited, and which was only even -then being tardily rebuilt by the Jefe’s prisoners. Torres, sauntering -down the street, the latest wire from Regan tucked in his pocket, saw -the Morgan outfit with surprise. - -“Whither away, senors?” he called. - -So spontaneous that it might have been rehearsed, Francis pointed to the -sky, Henry straight down at the earth, the peon to the right, and his -father to the left. The curse from Torres at such impoliteness, caused -all to burst into laughter, in which the mule-peons joined as they rode -along. - -Within the morning, at the time of the siesta hour, while all the town -slept, Torres received a second surprise. This time it was the sight of -Leoncia and her youngest brother, Ricardo, on mules, leading a third -that was evidently loaded with a camping outfit. - -The third expedition was Torres’ own, neither more nor less meager than -Leoncia’s, for it was composed only of himself and one, José Mancheno, a -notorious murderer of the place whom Torres, for private reasons, had -saved from the buzzards of San Juan. But Torres’ plans, in the matter of -an expedition, were more ambitious than they appeared. Not far up the -slopes of the Cordilleras dwelt the strange tribe of the Caroos. -Originally founded by runaway negro slaves of Africa and Carib slaves of -the Mosquito Coast, the renegades had perpetuated themselves with stolen -women of the tierra caliente and with fled women slaves like themselves. -Between the Mayas beyond, and the government of the coast, this unique -colony had maintained itself in semi-independence. Added to, in later -days, by runaway Spanish prisoners, the Caroos had become a hotchpotch -of bloods and breeds, possessing a name and a taint so bad that the then -governing power of Colombia, had it not been too occupied with its own -particular political grafts, would have sent armies to destroy the -pest-hole. And in this pest-hole of the Caroos José Mancheno had been -born of a Spanish-murderer father and a mestiza-murderess mother. And to -this pest-hole José Mancheno was leading Torres in order that the -commands of Thomas Regan of Wall Street might be carried out. - - * * * * * - -“Lucky we found him when we did,” Francis told Henry, as they rode at -the rear of the last Maya priest. - -“He’s pretty senile,” Henry nodded. “Look at him.” - -The old man, as he led the way, was forever pulling out the sacred -tassel and mumbling and muttering as he fingered it. - -“Hope the old gentleman doesn’t wear it out,” was Henry’s fervent wish. -“You’d think he’d read the directions once and remember them for a -little while instead of continually pawing them over.” - -They rode out through the jungle into a clear space that looked as if at -some time man had hewn down the jungle and fought it back. Beyond, by -the vista afforded by the clearing, the mountain called Blanco Rovalo -towered high in the sunny sky. The old Maya halted his mule, ran over -certain strings in the tassel, pointed at the mountain, and spoke in -broken Spanish: - -“It says: _In the foot-steps of the God wait till the eyes of Chia -flash._” - -He indicated the particular knots of a particular string as the source -of his information. - -“Where are the foot-steps, old priest?” Henry demanded, staring about -him at the unbroken sward. - -But the old man started his mule, and, with a tattoo of bare heels on -the creature’s ribs, hastened it on across the clearing and into the -jungle beyond. - -“He’s like a hound on the scent, and it looks as if the scent is getting -hot,” Francis remarked. - -At the end of half a mile, where the jungle turned to grass-land on -swift-rising slopes the old man forced his mule into a gallop which he -maintained until he reached a natural depression in the ground. Three -feet or more in depth, of area sufficient to accommodate a dozen persons -in comfort, its form was strikingly like that which some colossal human -foot could have made. - -“The foot-step of the God,” the old priest proclaimed solemnly, ere he -slid off his mule and prostrated himself in prayer. “_In the foot-step -of the God must we wait till the eyes of Chia flash_——so say the sacred -knots.” - -“Pretty good place for a meal,” Henry vouchsafed, looking down into the -depression. “While waiting for the mumbo-jumbo foolery to come off, we -might as well stay our stomachs.” - -“If Chia doesn’t object,” laughed Francis. - -And Chia did not object, at least the old priest could not find any -objection written in the knots. - -While the mules were being tethered on the edge of the first break of -woods, water was fetched from a nearby spring and a fire built in the -foot-step. The old Maya seemed oblivious of everything, as he mumbled -endless prayers and ran the knots over and over. - -“If only he doesn’t blow up,” Francis said. - -“I thought he was wild-eyed the first day we met him up in Juchitan,” -concurred Henry. “But it’s nothing to the way his eyes are now.” - -Here spoke the peon, who, unable to understand a word of their English, -nevertheless sensed the drift of it. - -“This is very religious, very dangerous, to have anything to do with the -old Maya sacred things. It is the death-road. My father knows. Many men -have died. The deaths are sudden and horrible. Even Maya priests have -died. My father’s father so died. He, too, loved a woman of the tierra -caliente. And for love of her, for gold, he sold the Maya secret and by -the knot-writing led tierra caliente men to the treasure. He died. They -all died. My father does not like the women of the tierra caliente now -that he is old. He liked them too well in his youth, which was his sin. -And he knows the danger of leading you to the treasure. Many men have -sought during the centuries. Of those who found it, not one came back. -It is said that even conquistadores and pirates of the English Morgan -have won to the hiding-place and decorated it with their bones.” - -“And when your father dies,” Francis queried, “then, being his son, you -will be the Maya high priest?” - -“No, senor,” the peon shook his head. “I am only half-Maya. I cannot -read the knots. My father did not teach me because I was not of the pure -Maya blood.” - -“And if he should die, right now, is there any other Maya who can read -the knots?” - -“No, senor. My father is the last living man who knows that ancient -language.” - -But the conversation was broken in upon by Leoncia and Ricardo, who, -having tethered their mules with the others, were gazing sheepishly down -from the rim of the depression. The faces of Henry and Francis lighted -with joy at the sight of Leoncia, while their mouths opened and their -tongues articulated censure and scolding. Also, they insisted on her -returning with Ricardo. - -“But you cannot send me away before giving me something to eat,” she -persisted, slipping down the slope of the depression with pure feminine -cunning in order to place the discussion on a closer and more intimate -basis. - -Aroused by their voices, the old Maya came out of a trance of prayer and -observed her with wrath. And in wrath he burst upon her, intermingling -occasional Spanish words and phrases with the flood of denunciation in -Maya. - -“He says that women are no good,” the peon interpreted in the first -pause. “He says women bring quarrels among men, the quick steel, the -sudden death. Bad luck and God’s wrath are ever upon them. Their ways -are not God’s ways, and they lead men to destruction. He says women are -the eternal enemy of God and man, forever keeping God and man apart. He -says women have ever cluttered the foot-steps of God and have kept men -away from travelling the path of God to God. He says this woman must go -back.” - -With laughing eyes, Francis whistled his appreciation of the diatribe, -while Henry said: - -“Now will you be good, Leoncia? You see what a Maya thinks of your sex. -This is no place for you. California’s the place. Women vote there.” - -“The trouble is that the old man is remembering the woman who brought -misfortune upon him in the heyday of his youth,” Francis said. He turned -to the peon. “Ask your father to read the knot-writing and see what it -says for or against women traveling in the foot-steps of God.” - -In vain the ancient high priest fumbled the sacred writing. There was -not to be found the slightest authoritative objection to woman. - -“He’s mixing his own experiences up with his mythology,” Francis grinned -triumphantly. “So I guess it’s pretty near all right, Leoncia, for you -to stay for a bite to eat. The coffee’s made. After that....” - -But “after that” came before. Scarcely had they seated themselves on the -ground and begun to eat, when Francis, standing up to serve Leoncia with -tortillas, had his hat knocked off. - -“My word!” he said, sitting down. “That was sudden. Henry, take a squint -and see who tried to pot-shoot me.” - -The next moment, save for the peon’s father, all eyes were peeping -across the rim of the foot-step. What they saw, creeping upon them from -every side, was a nondescript and bizarrely clad horde of men who seemed -members of no particular race but composed of all races. The breeds of -the entire human family seemed to have moulded their lineaments and -vari-colored their skins. - -“The mangiest bunch I ever laid eyes on,” was Francis’ comment. - -“They are the Caroos,” the peon muttered, betraying fear. - -“And who in——” Francis began. Instantly he amended. “And who in Paradise -are the Caroos?” - -“They come from hell,” was the peon’s answer. “They are more savage than -the Spaniard, more terrible than the Maya. They neither give nor take in -marriage, nor does a priest reside among them. They are the devil’s own -spawn, and their ways are the devil’s ways, only worse.” - -Here the Maya arose, and, with accusing finger, denounced Leoncia for -being the cause of this latest trouble. A bullet creased his shoulder -and half-whirled him about. - -“Drag him down!” Henry shouted to Francis. “He’s the only man who knows -the knot-language; and the eyes of Chia, whatever that may mean, have -not yet flashed.” - -Francis obeyed, with an out-reach of arm to the old fellow’s legs, -jerking him down in a crumpled, skeleton-like fall. - -Henry loosed his rifle, and elicited a fusillade in response. Next, -Ricardo, Francis, and the peon joined in. But the old man, still running -his knots, fixed his gaze across the far rim of the foot-step upon a -rugged wall of mountain beyond. - -“Hold on!” shouted Francis, in a vain attempt to make himself heard -above the shooting. - -He was compelled to crawl from one to another and shake them into -ceasing from firing. And to each, separately, he had to explain that all -their ammunition was with the mules, and that they must be sparing with -the little they had in their magazines and belts. - -“And don’t let them hit you,” Henry warned. “They’ve got old muskets and -blunderbusses that will drive holes through you the size of -dinner-plates.” - -An hour later, the last cartridge, save several in Francis’ automatic -pistol, was gone; and to the irregular firing of the Caroos the pit -replied with silence. José Mancheno was the first to guess the -situation. He cautiously crept up to the edge of the pit to make sure, -then signaled to the Caroos that the ammunition of the besieged was -exhausted and to come on. - -“Nicely trapped, senors,” he exulted down at the defenders, while from -all around the rim laughter arose from the Caroos. - -But the next moment the change that came over the situation was as -astounding as a transformation scene in a pantomime. With wild cries of -terror the Caroos were fleeing. Such was their disorder and haste that -numbers of them dropped their muskets and machetes. - -“Anyway, I’ll get you, Senor Buzzard,” Francis pleasantly assured -Mancheno, at the same time flourishing his pistol at him. - -He leveled his weapon as Mancheno fled, but reconsidered and did not -draw trigger. - -“I’ve only three shots left,” he explained to Henry, half in apology. -“And in this country one can never tell when three shots will come in -handiest, ‘as I’ve found out, beyond a doubt, beyond a doubt.’” - -“Look!” the peon cried, pointing to his father and to the distant -mountainside. “That is why they ran away. They have learned the peril of -the sacred things of Maya.” - -The old priest, running over the knots of the tassel in an ecstasy that -was almost trance-like, was gazing fixedly at the distant mountainside, -from which, side by side and close together, two bright flashes of light -were repeating themselves. - -“Twin mirrors could do it in the hands of a man,” was Henry’s comment. - -“They are the eyes of Chia,” the peon repeated. “It is so written in the -knots as you have heard my father say. _Wait in the foot-steps of the -God till the eyes of Chia flash._” - -The old man rose to his feet and wildly proclaimed: “_To find the -treasure we must find the eyes!_” - -“All right, old top,” Henry soothed him, as, with his small traveler’s -compass he took the bearings of the flashes. - - * * * * * - -“He’s got a compass inside his head,” Henry remarked an hour later of -the old priest, who led on the foremost mule. “I check him by the -compass, and, no matter how the natural obstacles compel him to deviate, -he comes back to the course as if he were himself a magnetic needle.” - -Not since leaving the foot-step, had the flashings been visible. Only -from that one spot, evidently, did the rugged landscape permit the -seeing of them. Rugged the country was, broken into arroyos and cliffs, -interspersed with forest patches and stretches of sand and of volcanic -ash. - -At last the way became impassable for their mounts, and Ricardo was left -behind to keep charge of the mules and mule-peons and to make a camp. -The remainder of the party continued on, scaling the jungle-clad steep -that blocked their way by hoisting themselves and one another up from -root to root. The old Maya, still leading, was oblivious to Leoncia’s -presence. - -Suddenly, half a mile farther on, he halted and shrank back as if stung -by a viper. Francis laughed, and across the wild landscape came back a -discordant, mocking echo. The last priest of the Mayas ran the knots -hurriedly, picked out a particular string, ran its knots twice, and then -announced: - -“_When the God laughs, beware!—so say the knots._” - -Fifteen minutes were lost ere Henry and Francis succeeded in only partly -convincing him, by repeated trials of their voices, that the thing was -an echo. - -Half an hour later, they debouched on a series of abrupt-rolling -sand-dunes. Again the old man shrank back. From the sand in which they -strode, arose a clamor of noise. When they stood still, all was still. A -single step, and all the sand about them became vocal. - -“_When the God laughs, beware!_” the old Maya warned. - -Drawing a circle in the sand with his finger, which shouted at him as he -drew it, he sank down within it on his knees, and as his knees contacted -on the sand arose a very screaming and trumpeting of sound. The peon -joined his father inside the noisy circle, where, with his forefinger, -the old man was tracing screeching cabalistic figures and designs. - -Leoncia was overcome, and clung both to Henry and Francis. Even Francis -was perturbed. - -“The echo was an echo,” he said. “But here is no echo. I don’t -understand it. Frankly, it gets my goat.” - -“Piffle!” Henry retorted, stirring the sand with his foot till it -shouted again. “It’s the barking sand. On the island of Kauai, down in -the Hawaiian Islands, I have been across similar barking sands——quite a -place for tourists, I assure you. Only this is a better specimen, and -much noisier. The scientists have a score of high-brow theories to -account for the phenomenon. It occurs in several other places in the -world, as I have heard. There’s only one thing to do, and that is to -follow the compass bearing which leads straight across. Such sands do -bark, but they have never been known to bite.” - -But the last of the priests could not be persuaded out of his circle, -although they succeeded in disturbing him from his prayers long enough -to spout a flood of impassioned Maya speech. - -“He says,” the son interpreted, “that we are bent on such sacrilege that -the very sands cry out against us. He will go no nearer to the dread -abode of Chia. Nor will I. His father died there, as is well known -amongst the Mayas. He says he will not die there. He says he is not old -enough to die.” - -“The miserable octogenarian!” Francis laughed, and was startled by the -ghostly, mocking laugh of the echo, while all about them the sand-dunes -bayed in chorus. “Too youthful to die! How about you, Leoncia? Are you -too young to die yet a while?” - -“Say,” she smiled back, moving her foot slightly so as to bring a moan -of reproach from the sand beneath it. “On the contrary, I am too old to -die just because the cliffs echo our laughter back at us and because the -sandhills bark at us. Come, let us go on. We are very close to those -flashings. Let the old man wait within his circle until we come back.” - -She cast off their hands and stepped forward, and as they followed, all -the dunes became inarticulate, while one, near to them, down the sides -of which ran a slide of sand, rumbled and thundered. Fortunately for -them, as they were soon to learn, Francis, at abandoning the mules, had -equipped himself with a coil of thin, strong rope. - -Once across the sands they encountered more echoes. On trials, they -found their halloes distinctly repeated as often as six or eight times. - -“Hell’s bells,” said Henry. “No wonder the natives fight shy of such a -locality!” - -“Wasn’t it Mark Twain who wrote about a man whose hobby was making a -collection of echoes?” Francis queried. - -“Never heard of him. But this is certainly some fine collection of Maya -echoes. They chose the region wisely for a hiding place. Undoubtedly it -was always sacred, even before the Spaniards came. The old priests knew -the natural causes of the mysteries, and passed them over to the herd as -mystery with a capital ‘M’ and supernatural in origin.” - -Not many minutes afterward they emerged on an open, level space, close -under a crannied and ledge-ribbed cliff, and exchanged their single-file -mode of progression to three-abreast. The ground was a hard, brittle -crust of surface, so crystalline and dry as never to suggest that it was -aught else but crystalline and dry all the way down. In an ebullition of -spirits, desiring to keep both men on an equality of favor, Leoncia -seized their hands and started them into a run. At the end of half a -dozen strides the disaster happened. Simultaneously Henry and Francis -broke through the crust, sinking to their thighs, and Leoncia was only a -second behind them in breaking through and sinking almost as deep. - -“Hell’s bells!” Henry muttered. “It’s the very devil’s own landscape.” - -And his low-spoken words were whispered back to him from the nearby -cliffs on all sides and endlessly and sibilantly repeated. - -Not at first did they fully apprehend their danger. It was when, by -their struggles, they found themselves waist-deep and steadily sinking, -that the two men grasped the gravity of the situation. Leoncia still -laughed at the predicament, for it seemed no more than that to her. - -“Quicksand,” Francis gasped. - -“Quicksand!” all the landscape gasped back at him, and continued to gasp -it in fading ghostly whispers, repeating it and gossiping about it with -gleeful unction. - -“It’s a pot-hole filled with quicksand,” Henry corroborated. - -“Maybe the old boy was right in sticking back there on the barking -sands,” observed Francis. - -The ghostly whispering redoubled upon itself and was a long time in -dying away. - -By this time they were midway between waist and arm-pits and sinking as -methodically as ever. - -“Well, somebody’s got to get out of the scrape alive,” Henry remarked. - -And, even without discussing the choice, both men began to hoist Leoncia -up, although the effort and her weight thrust them more quickly down. -When she stood, free and clear, a foot on the nearest shoulder of each -of the two men she loved, Francis said, though the landscape mocked him: - -“Now, Leoncia, we’re going to toss you out of this. At the word ‘Go!’ -let yourself go. And you must strike full length and softly on the -crust. You’ll slide a little. But don’t let yourself stop. Keep on -going. Crawl out to the solid land on your hands and knees. And, -whatever you do, don’t stand up until you reach the solid land.—Ready, -Henry?” - -Between them, though it hastened their sinking, they swung her back and -forth, free in the air, and, the third swing, at Francis’ “Go!” heaved -her shoreward. - -Her obedience to their instructions was implicit, and, on hands and -knees, she gained the solid rocks of the shore. - -“Now for the rope!” she called to them. - -But by this time Francis was too deep to be able to remove the coil from -around his neck and under one arm. Henry did it for him, and, though the -exertion sank him to an equal deepness, managed to fling one end of the -rope to Leoncia. - -At first she pulled on it. Next, she fastened a turn around a boulder -the size of a motor car, and let Henry pull. But it was in vain. The -strain or purchase was so lateral that it seemed only to pull him -deeper. The quicksand was sucking and rising over his shoulders when -Leoncia cried out, precipitating a very Bedlam of echoes: - -“Wait! Stop pulling! I have an idea! Give me all the slack! Just save -enough of the end to tie under your shoulders!” - -The next moment, dragging the rope after her by the other end, she was -scaling the cliff. Forty feet up, where a gnarled and dwarfed tree -rooted in the crevices, she paused. Passing the rope across the -tree-trunk, as over a hook, she drew in the slack and made fast to a -boulder of several hundredweight. - -“Good for the girl!” Francis applauded to Henry. - -Both men had grasped her plan, and success depended merely on her -ability to dislodge the boulder and topple it off the ledge. Five -precious minutes were lost, until she could find a dead branch of -sufficient strength to serve as a crowbar. Attacking the boulder from -behind and working with tense coolness while her two lovers continued to -sink, she managed at the last to topple it over the brink. - -As it fell, the rope tautened with a jerk that fetched an involuntary -grunt from Henry’s suddenly constricted chest. Slowly, he arose out of -the quicksand, his progress being accompanied by loud sucking reports as -the sand reluctantly released him. But, when he cleared the surface, the -boulder so outweighed him that he shot shoreward across the crust until -directly under the purchase above, when the boulder came to rest on the -ground beside him. - -Only Francis’ head, arms, and tops of shoulders were visible above the -quicksand when the end of the rope was flung to him. And, when he stood -beside them on terra firma, and when he shook his fist at the quicksand -he had escaped by so narrow a shave, they joined with him in deriding -it. And a myriad ghosts derided them back, and all the air about them -was woven by whispering shuttles into an evil texture of mockery. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - -“We can’t be a million miles away from it,” Henry said, as the trio came -to pause at the foot of a high steep cliff. “If it’s any farther on, -then the course lies right straight over the cliff, and, since we can’t -climb it and from the extent of it it must be miles around, the source -of those flashes ought to be right here.” - -“Now could it have been a man with looking-glasses?” Leoncia ventured. - -“Most likely some natural phenomenon,” Francis answered. “I’m strong on -natural phenomena since those barking sands.” - -Leoncia, who chanced to be glancing along the face of the cliff farther -on, suddenly stiffened with attention and cried, “Look!” - -Their eyes followed hers, and rested on the same point. What they saw -was no flash, but a steady persistence of white light that blazed and -burned like the sun. Following the base of the cliff at a scramble, both -men remarked, from the density of vegetation, that there had been no -travel of humans that way in many years. Breathless from their -exertions, they broke out through the brush upon an open-space where a -not-ancient slide of rock from the cliff precluded the growth of -vegetable life. - -Leoncia clapped her hands. There was no need for her to point. Thirty -feet above, on the face of the cliff, were two huge eyes. Fully a fathom -across was each of the eyes, their surfaces brazen with some white -reflecting substance. - -“The eyes of Chia!” she cried. - -Henry scratched his head with sudden recollection. - -“I’ve a shrewd suspicion I can tell you what they’re composed of,” he -said. “I’ve never seen it before, but I’ve heard old-timers mention it. -It’s an old Maya trick. My share of the treasure, Francis, against a -perforated dime, that I can tell you what the reflecting stuff is.” - -“Done!” cried Francis. “A man’s a fool not to take odds like that, even -if it’s a question of the multiplication table. Possibly millions of -dollars against a positive bad dime! I’d bet two times two made five on -the chance that a miracle could prove it. Name it? What is it? The bet -is on.” - -“Oysters,” Henry smiled. “Oyster shells, or, rather, pearl-oyster -shells. It’s mother-of-pearl, cunningly mosaicked and cemented in so as -to give a continuous reflecting surface. Now you have to prove me wrong, -so climb up and see.” - -Beneath the eyes, extending a score of feet up and down the cliff, was a -curious, triangular out-jut of rock. Almost was it like an excrescence -on the face of the cliff. The apex of it reached within a yard of the -space that intervened between the eyes. Rough inequalities of surface, -and cat-like clinging on Francis’ part, enabled him to ascend the ten -feet to the base of the excrescence. Thence, up to the ridge of it, the -way was easier. But a twenty-five-foot fall and a broken arm or leg in -the midst of such isolation was no pleasant thing to consider, and -Leoncia, causing an involuntary jealous gleam to light Henry’s eyes, -called up: - -“Oh, do be careful, Francis!” - -Standing on the tip of the triangle he was gazing, now into one, and -then into the other, of the eyes. He drew his hunting knife and began to -dig and pry at the right-hand eye. - -“If the old gentleman were here he’d have a fit at such sacrilege,” -Henry commented. - -“The perforated dime is yours,” Francis called down, at the same time -dropping into Henry’s outstretched palm the fragment he had dug loose. - -Mother-of-pearl it was, a flat piece cut with definite purpose to fit in -with the many other pieces to form the eye. - -“Where there’s smoke there’s fire,” Henry adjudged. “Not for nothing did -the Mayas select this God-forsaken spot and stick these eyes of Chia on -the cliff.” - -“Looks as if we’d made a mistake in leaving the old gentleman and his -sacred knots behind,” Francis said. - -“The knots should tell all about it and what our next move should be.” - -“Where there are eyes there should be a nose,” Leoncia contributed. - -“And there is!” exclaimed Francis. “Heavens! That was the nose I just -climbed up. We’re too close up against it to have perspective. At a -hundred yards’ distance it would look like a colossal face.” - -Leoncia advanced gravely and kicked at a decaying deposit of leaves and -twigs evidently blown there by tropic gales. - -“Then the mouth ought to be where a mouth belongs, here under the nose,” -she said. - -In a trice Henry and Francis had kicked the rubbish aside and exposed an -opening too small to admit a man’s body. It was patent that the -rock-slide had partly blocked the way. A few rocks heaved aside gave -space for Francis to insert his head and shoulders and gaze about with a -lighted match. - -“Watch out for snakes,” warned Leoncia. - -Francis grunted acknowledgment and reported: - -“This is no natural cavern. It’s all hewn rock, and well done, if I’m -any judge.” A muttered expletive announced the burning of his fingers by -the expiring match-stub. And next they heard his voice, in accents of -surprise: “Don’t need any matches. It’s got a lighting system of its -own——from somewhere above——regular concealed lighting, though it’s -daylight all right. Those old Mayas were certainly some goers. Wouldn’t -be surprised if we found an elevator, hot and cold water, a furnace, and -a Swede janitor.—Well, so long.” - -His trunk, and legs, and feet disappeared, and then his voice issued -forth: - -“Come on in. The cave is fine.” - -“And now aren’t you glad you let me come along?” Leoncia twitted, as she -joined the two men on the level floor of the rock-hewn chamber, where, -their eyes quickly accustoming to the mysterious gray-percolation of -daylight, they could see about them with surprising distinctness. -“First, I found the eyes for you, and, next, the mouth. If I hadn’t been -along, most likely, by this time, you’d have been half a mile away, -going around the cliff and going farther and farther every step you -took. - -“But the place is bare as old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard,” she added, the -next moment. - -“Naturally,” said Henry. “This is only the antechamber. Not so sillily -would the Mayas hide the treasure the conquistadores were so mad after. -I’m willing to wager right now that we’re almost as far from finding the -actual treasure as we would be if we were not here but in San Antonio.” - -Twelve or fifteen feet in width and of an unascertainable height, the -passage led them what Henry judged forty paces, or well over a hundred -feet. Then it abruptly narrowed, turned at a right angle to the right, -and, with a similar right angle to the left, made an elbow into another -spacious chamber. - -Still the mysterious percolation of daylight guided the way for their -eyes, and Francis, in the lead, stopped so suddenly that Leoncia and -Henry, in a single file behind, collided with him. Leoncia in the -center, and Henry on her left, they stood abreast and gazed down a long -avenue of humans, long dead, but not dust. - -“Like the Egyptians, the Mayas knew embalming and mummifying,” Henry -said, his voice unconsciously sinking to a whisper in the presence of so -many unburied dead, who stood erect and at gaze, as if still alive. - -All were European-clad, and all exposed the impassive faces of -Europeans. About them, as to the life, were draped the ages-rotten -habiliments of the conquistadores and of the English pirates. Two of -them, with visors raised, were encased in rusty armor. Their swords and -cutlasses were belted to them or held in their shriveled hands, and -through their belts were thrust huge flintlock pistols of archaic model. - -“The old Maya was right,” Francis whispered. “They’ve decorated the -hiding place with their mortal remains and been stuck up in the lobby as -a warning to trespassers.—Say! If that chap isn’t a real Iberian! I’ll -bet he played haia-lai, and his fathers before him.” - -“And that’s a Devonshire man if ever I saw one,” Henry whispered back. -“Perforated dimes to pieces-of-eight that he poached the fallow deer and -fled the king’s wrath in the first forecastle for the Spanish Main.” - -“Br-r-r!” Leoncia shivered, clinging to both men. “The sacred things of -the Mayas are deadly and ghastly. And there is a classic vengeance about -it. The would-be robbers of the treasure-house have become its -defenders, guarding it with their unperishing clay.” - -They were loath to proceed. The garmented spectres of the ancient dead -held them temporarily spell-bound. Henry grew melodramatic. - -“Even to this far, mad place,” he said, “as early as the beginning of -the Conquest, their true-hound noses led them on the treasure-scent. -Even though they could not get away with it, they won unerringly to -it.—My hat is off to you, pirates and conquistadores! I salute you, old -gallant plunderers, whose noses smelt out gold, and whose hearts were -brave sufficient to fight for it!” - -“Huh!” Francis concurred, as he urged the other two to traverse the -avenue of the ancient adventurers. “Old Sir Henry himself ought to be -here at the head of the procession.” - -Thirty paces they took, ere the passage elbowed as before, and, at the -very end of the double-row of mummies, Henry brought his companions to a -halt as he pointed and said: - -“I don’t know about Sir Henry, but there’s Alvarez Torres.” - -Under a Spanish helmet, in decapitated medieval Spanish dress, a big -Spanish sword in its brown and withered hand, stood a mummy whose lean -brown face for all the world was the lean brown face of Alvarez Torres. -Leoncia gasped, shrank back, and crossed herself at the sight. - -Francis released her to Henry, advanced, and fingered the cheeks and -lips and forehead of the thing, and laughed reassuringly: - -“I only wish Alvarez Torres were as dead as this dead one is. I haven’t -the slightest doubt, however, but what Torres descended from him——I mean -before he came here to take up his final earthly residence as a member -of the Maya Treasure Guard.” - -Leoncia passed the grim figure shudderingly. This time, the elbow -passage was very dark, compelling Henry, who had changed into the lead, -to light numerous matches. - -“Hello!” he said, as he paused at the end of a couple of hundred feet. -“Gaze on that for workmanship! Look at the dressing of that stone!” - -From beyond, gray light streamed into the passage, making matches -unnecessary to see. Half into a niche was thrust a stone the size of the -passage. It was apparent that it had been used to block the passage. The -dressing was exquisite, the sides and edges of the block precisely -aligned with the place in the wall into which it was made to dovetail. - -“I’ll wager here’s where the old Maya’s father died,” Francis exclaimed. -“He knew the secret of the balances and leverages that pivoted the -stone, and it was only partly pivoted, as you’ll observe——” - -“Hell’s bells!” Henry interrupted, pointing before him on the floor at a -scattered skeleton. “It must be what’s left of him. It’s fairly recent, -or he would have been mummified. Most likely he was the last visitor -before us.” - -“The old priest said his father led men of the tierra caliente here,” -Leoncia reminded Henry. - -“Also,” Francis supplemented, “he said that none returned.” - -Henry, who had located the skull and picked it up, uttered another -exclamation and lighted a match to show the others what he had -discovered: Not only was the skull dented with what must have been a -blow from a sword or a machete, but a shattered hole in the back of the -skull showed the unmistakable entrance of a bullet. Henry shook the -skull, was rewarded by an interior rattling, shook again, and shook out -a partly flattened bullet. Francis examined it. - -“From a horse-pistol,” he concluded aloud. “With weak or greatly -deteriorated powder, because, in a place like this, it must have been -fired pretty close to point blank range and yet failed to go all the way -through. And it’s an aboriginal skull all right.” - -A right-angled turn completed the elbow and gave them access to a small -but well-lighted rock chamber. From a window, high up and barred with -vertical bars of stone a foot thick and half as wide, poured gray -daylight. The floor of the place was littered with white-picked bones of -men. An examination of the skulls showed them to be those of Europeans. -Scattered among them were rifles, pistols, and knives, with, here and -there, a machete. - -“Thus far they won, across the very threshold to the treasure,” Francis -said, “and, from the looks, began to fight for its possession before -they laid hands on it. Too bad the old man isn’t here to see what -happened to his father.” - -“Might there not have been survivors who managed to get away with the -loot?” suggested Henry. - -But at that moment, casting, his eyes from the bones to a survey of the -chamber, Francis saw what made him say: - -“Without doubt, no. See those gems in those eyes. Rubies, or I never saw -a ruby!” - -They followed his gaze to the stone statue of a squat and heavy female -who stared at them red-eyed and open-mouthed. So large was the mouth -that it made a caricature of the rest of the face. Beside it, carved -similarly of stone, and on somewhat more heroic lines, was a more -obscene and hideous male statue, with one ear of proportioned size and -the other ear as grotesquely large as the female’s mouth. - -“The beauteous dame must be Chia all right,” Henry grinned. “But who’s -her gentleman friend with the elephant ear and the green eyes?” - -“Search me,” Francis laughed. “But this I do know: those green eyes of -the elephant-eared one are the largest emeralds I’ve ever seen or -dreamed of. Each of them is really too large to possess fair carat -value. They should be crown jewels or nothing.” - -“But a couple of emeralds and a couple of rubies, no matter what size, -should not constitute the totality of the Maya treasure,” Henry -contended. “We’re across the threshold of it, and yet we lack the key——” - -“Which the old Maya, back on the barking sands, undoubtedly holds in -that sacred tassel of his,” Leoncia said. “Except for these two statues -and the bones on the floor, the place is bare.” - -As she spoke, she advanced to look the male statue over more closely. -The grotesque ear centered her attention, and she pointed into it as she -added: “I don’t know about the key, but there is the key-hole.” - -True enough, the elephantine ear, instead of enfolding an orifice as an -ear of such size should, was completely blocked up save for a small -aperture that not too remotely resembled a key-hole. They wandered -vainly about the chamber, tapping the walls and floor, seeking for -cunningly-hidden passageways or unguessable clues to the hiding place of -the treasure. - -“Bones of tierra caliente men, two idols, two emeralds of enormous size, -two rubies ditto, and ourselves, are all the place contains,” Francis -summed up. “Only a couple of things remain for us to do: go back and -bring up Ricardo and the mules to make camp outside; and bring up the -old gentleman and his sacred knots if we have to carry him.” - -“You wait with Leoncia, and I’ll go back and bring them up,” Henry -volunteered, when they had threaded the long passages and the avenues of -the erect dead and won to the sunshine and the sky outside the face of -the cliff. - - * * * * * - -Back on the barking sands the peon and his father knelt in the circle so -noisily drawn by the old man’s forefinger. A local rain squall beat upon -them, and, though the peon shivered, the old man prayed on oblivious to -what might happen to his skin in the way of wind and water. It was -because the peon shivered and was uncomfortable that he observed two -things which his father missed. First, he saw Alvarez Torres and José -Mancheno cautiously venture out from the jungle upon the sand. Next, he -saw a miracle. The miracle was that the pair of them trudged steadily -across the sand without causing the slightest sound to arise from their -progress. When they had disappeared ahead, he touched his finger -tentatively to the sand, and aroused no ghostly whisperings. He thrust -his finger into the sand, yet all was silent, as was it silent when he -buffeted the sand heartily with the flat of his palm. The passing shower -had rendered the sand dumb. - -He shook his father out of his prayers, announcing: - -“The sand no longer is noisy. It is as silent as the grave. And I have -seen the enemy of the rich Gringo pass across the sand without sound. He -is not devoid of sin, this Alvarez Torres, yet did the sand make no -sound. The sand has died. The voice of the sand is not. Where the sinful -may walk, you and I, old father, may walk.” - -Inside the circle, the old Maya, with trembling forefinger in the sand, -traced further cabalistic characters; and the sand did not shout back at -him. Outside the circle it was the same——because the sand had become -wet, and because it was the way of the sand to be vocal only when it was -bone-dry under the sun. He fingered the knots of the sacred writing -tassel. - -“It says,” he reported, “that when the sand no longer talks it is safe -to proceed. So far I have obeyed all instruction. In order to obey -further instruction, let us now proceed.” - -So well did they proceed, that, shortly beyond the barking sands, they -overtook Torres and Mancheno, which worthy pair slunk off into the brush -on one side, watched the priest and his son go by, and took up their -trail well in the rear. While Henry, taking a short cut, missed both -couples of men. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - -“Even so, it was a mistake and a weakness on my part to remain in -Panama,” Francis was saying to Leoncia, as they sat side by side on the -rocks outside the cave entrance, waiting Henry’s return. - -“Does the stock market of New York then mean so much to you?” Leoncia -coquettishly teased; yet only part of it was coquetry, the major portion -of it being temporization. She was afraid of being alone with this man -whom she loved so astoundingly and terribly. - -Francis was impatient. - -“I am ever a straight talker, Leoncia. I say what I mean, in the -directest, shortest way——” - -“Wherein you differ from us Spaniards,” she interpolated, “who must -garnish and dress the simplest thoughts with all decorations of speech.” - -But he continued undeterred what he had started to say. - -“There you are a baffler, Leoncia, which was just what I was going to -call you. I speak straight talk and true talk, which is a man’s way. You -baffle in speech, and flutter like a butterfly——which, I grant, is a -woman’s way and to be expected. Nevertheless, it is not fair ... to me. -I tell you straight out the heart of me, and you understand. You do not -tell me your heart. You flutter and baffle, and I do not understand. -Therefore, you have me at a disadvantage. You know I love you. I have -told you plainly. I? What do I know about you?” - -With downcast eyes and rising color in her cheeks, she sat silent, -unable to reply. - -“You see!” he insisted. “You do not answer. You look warmer and more -beautiful and desirable than ever, more enticing, in short; and yet you -baffle me and tell me nothing of your heart or intention. Is it because -you are woman? Or because you are Spanish?” - -She felt herself stirred profoundly. Beyond herself, yet in cool control -of herself, she raised her eyes and looked steadily in his as steadily -she said: - -“I can be Anglo-Saxon, or English, or American, or whatever you choose -to name the ability to look things squarely in the face and to talk -squarely into the face of things.” She paused and debated coolly with -herself, and coolly resumed. “You complain that while you have told me -that you love me, I have not told you whether or not I love you. I shall -settle that forever and now. I do love you——” - -She thrust his eager arms away from her. - -“Wait!” she commanded. “Who is the woman now? Or the Spaniard? I had not -finished. I love you. I am proud that I love you. Yet there is more. You -have asked me for my heart and intention. I have told you part of the -one. I now tell you all of the other: I _intend_ to marry Henry.” - -Such Anglo-Saxon directness left Francis breathless. - -“In heaven’s name, why?” was all he could utter. - -“Because I love Henry,” she answered, her eyes still unshrinkingly on -his. - -“And you ... you say you love _me_?” he quavered. - -“And I love you, too. I love both of you. I am a good woman, at least I -always used to think so. I still think so, though my reason tells me -that I cannot love two men at the same time and be a good woman. I don’t -care about that. If I am bad, it is I, and I cannot help myself for -being what I was born to be.” - -She paused and waited, but her lover was still speechless. - -“And who’s the Anglo-Saxon now?” she queried, with a slight smile, half -of bravery, half of amusement at the dumbness of consternation her words -had produced in him. “I have told you, without baffling, without -fluttering, my full heart and my full intention.” - -“But you can’t!” he protested wildly. “You can’t love me and marry -Henry.” - -“Perhaps you have not understood,” she chided gravely. “I intend to -marry Henry. I love you. I love Henry. But I cannot marry both of you. -The law will not permit. Therefore I shall marry only one of you. It is -my intention that that one be Henry.” - -“Then why, why,” he demanded, “did you persuade me into remaining?” - -“Because I loved you. I have already so told you.” - -“If you keep this up I shall go mad!” he cried. - -“I have felt like going mad over it myself many times,” she assured him. -“If you think it is easy for me thus to play the Anglo-Saxon, you are -mistaken. But no Anglo-Saxon, not even you whom I love so dearly, can -hold me in contempt because I hide the shameful secrets of the impulses -of my being. Less shameful I find it, for me to tell them, right out in -meeting, to you. If this be Anglo-Saxon, make the most of it. If it be -Spanish, and woman, and Solano, still make the most of it, for I am -Spanish, and woman——a Spanish woman of the Solanos——” - -“But I don’t talk with my hands,” she added with a wan smile in the -silence that fell. - -Just as he was about to speak, she hushed him, and both listened to a -crackling and rustling from the underbrush that advertised the passage -of humans. - -“Listen,” she whispered hurriedly, laying her hand suddenly on his arm, -as if pleading. “I shall be finally Anglo-Saxon, and for the last time, -when I tell you what I am going to tell you. Afterward, and for always, -I shall be the baffling, fluttering, female Spaniard you have chosen for -my description. Listen: I love Henry, it is true, very true. I love you -more, much more. I shall marry Henry ... because I love him and am -pledged to him. Yet always shall I love you more.” - -Before he could protest, the old Maya priest and his peon son emerged -from the underbrush close upon them. Scarcely noticing their presence, -the priest went down on his knees, exclaiming, in Spanish: - -“For the first time have my eyes beheld the eyes of Chia.” - -He ran the knots of the sacred tassel and began a prayer in Maya, which, -could they have understood, ran as follows: - -“O immortal Chia, great spouse of the divine Hzatzl who created all -things out of nothingness! O immortal spouse of Hzatzl, thyself the -mother of the corn, the divinity of the heart of the husked grain, -goddess of the rain and the fructifying sun-rays, nourisher of all the -grains and roots and fruits for the sustenance of man! O glorious Chia, -whose mouth ever commands the ear of Hzatzl, to thee humbly, thy priest, -I make my prayer. Be kind to me, and forgiving. From thy mouth let issue -forth the golden key that opens the ear of Hzatzl. Let thy faithful -priest gain to Hzatzl’s treasure——Not for himself, O Divinity, but for -the sake of his son whom the Gringo saved. Thy children, the Mayas, -pass. There is no need for them of the treasure. I am thy last priest. -With me passes all understanding of thee and of thy great spouse, whose -name I breathe only with my forehead on the stones. Hear me, O Chia, -hear me! My head is on the stones before thee!” - -For all of five minutes the old Maya lay prone, quivering and jerking as -if in a catalepsy, while Leoncia and Francis looked curiously on, -themselves half-swept by the unmistakable solemnity of the old man’s -prayer, non-understandable though it was. - -Without waiting for Henry, Francis entered the cave a second time. With -Leoncia beside him, he felt quite like a guide as he showed the old -priest over the place. The latter, ever reading the knots and mumbling, -followed behind, while the peon was left on guard outside. In the avenue -of mummies the priest halted reverently——not so much for the mummies as -for the sacred tassel. - -“It is so written,” he announced, holding out a particular string of -knots. “These men were evil, and robbers. Their doom here is to wait -forever outside the inner room of Maya mystery.” - -Francis hurried him past the heap of bones of his father before him, and -led him into the inner chamber, where first of all, he prostrated -himself before the two idols and prayed long and earnestly. After that, -he studied certain of the strings very carefully. Then he made an -announcement, first in Maya, which Francis gave him to know was -unintelligible, and next in broken Spanish: - -“_From the mouth of Chia to the ear of Hzatzl_——so is it written.” - -Francis listened to the cryptic utterance, glanced into the dark cavity -of the goddess’ mouth, stuck the blade of his hunting-knife into the -key-hole of the god’s monstrous ear, then tapped the stone with the hilt -of his knife and declared the statue to be hollow. Back to Chia, he was -tapping her to demonstrate her hollowness, when the old Maya muttered: - -“_The feet of Chia rest upon nothingness._” - -Francis caught by the idea, made the old man verify the message by the -knots. - -“Her feet _are_ large,” Leoncia laughed, “but they rest on the solid -rock-floor and not on nothingness.” - -Francis pushed against the female deity with his hand and found that she -moved easily. Gripping her with both hands, he began to wrestle, moving -her with quick jerks and twists. - -“_For the strong men and unafraid will Chia walk_,” the priest read. -“But the next three knots declare: _Beware! Beware! Beware!_” - -“Well, I guess, that nothingness, whatever it is, won’t bite me,” -Francis chuckled, as he released the statue after shifting it a yard -from its original position. - -“There, old lady, stand there for a while, or sit down if that will rest -your feet. They ought to be tired after standing on nothing for so many -centuries.” - -A cry from Leoncia drew his gaze to the portion of the floor just -vacated by the large feet of Chia. Stepping backward from the displaced -goddess, he had been just about to fall into the rock-hewn hole her feet -had concealed. It was circular, and a full yard in diameter. In vain he -tested the depth by dropping lighted matches. They fell burning, and, -without reaching bottom, still falling, were extinguished by the draught -of their flight. - -“It looks very much like nothingness without a bottom,” he adjudged, as -he dropped a tiny stone fragment. - -Many seconds they listened ere they heard it strike. - -“Even that may not be the bottom,” Leoncia suggested. “It may have been -struck against some projection from the side and even lodged there.” - -“Well, this will determine it,” Francis cried, seizing an ancient musket -from among the bones on the floor and preparing to drop it. - -But the old man stopped him. - -“The message of the sacred knots is: _whoso violates the nothingness -beneath the feet of Chia shall quickly and terribly die_.” - -“Far be it from me to make a stir in the void,” Francis grinned, tossing -the musket aside. “But what are we to do now, old Maya man? From the -mouth of Chia to the ear of Hzatzl sounds easy——but how?—and what? Run -the sacred knots with thy fingers, old top, and find for us _how_ and -_what_.” - -For the son of the priest, the peon with the frayed knees, the clock had -struck. All unaware, he had seen his last sun-rise. No matter what -happened this day, no matter what blind efforts he might make to escape, -the day was to be his last day. Had he remained on guard at the -cave-entrance, he would surely have been killed by Torres and Mancheno, -who had arrived close on his heels. - -But, instead of so remaining, it entered his cautious, timid soul to -make a scout out and beyond for possible foes. Thus, he missed death in -the daylight under the sky. Yet the pace of the hands of the clock was -unalterable, and neither nearer nor farther was his destined end from -him. - -While he scouted, Alvarez Torres and José Mancheno arrived at the -cave-opening. The colossal, mother-of-pearl eyes of Chia on the wall of -the cliff were too much for the superstition-reared Caroo. - -“Do you go in,” he told Torres. “I will wait here and watch and guard.” - -And Torres, with strong in him the blood of the ancient forebear who -stood faithfully through the centuries in the avenue of the mummy dead, -entered the Maya cave as courageously as that forebear had entered. - -And the instant he was out of sight, José Mancheno, unafraid to murder -treacherously any living, breathing man, but greatly afraid of the -unseen world behind unexplainable phenomena, forgot the trust of watch -and ward and stole away through the jungle. Thus, the peon, returning -reassured from his scout and curious to learn the Maya secrets of his -father and of the sacred tassel, found nobody at the cave mouth and -himself entered into it close upon the heels of Torres. - -The latter trod softly and cautiously, for fear of disclosing his -presence to those he trailed. Also his progress was still further -delayed by the spectacle of the ancient dead in the hall of mummies. -Curiously he examined these men whom history had told about, and for -whom history had stopped there in the antechamber of the Maya gods. -Especially curious was he at the sight of the mummy at the end of the -line. The resemblance to him was too striking for him not to see, and he -could not but believe that he was looking upon some direct -great-ancestor of his. - -Still gazing and speculating, he was warned by approaching foot-steps, -and glanced about for some place to hide. A sardonic humor seized him. -Taking the helmet from the head of his ancient kin, he placed it on his -own head. Likewise did he drape the rotten mantle about his form, and -equip himself with the great sword and the great floppy boots that -almost fell to pieces as he pulled them on. Next, half tenderly, he -deposited the nude mummy on its back in the dark shadows behind the -other mummies. And, finally, in the same spot at the end of the line, -his hand resting on the sword-hilt, he assumed the same posture he had -observed of the mummy. - -Only his eyes moved as he observed the peon venturing slowly and -fearfully along the avenue of upright corpses. At sight of Torres he -came to an abrupt stop and with wide eyes of dread muttered a succession -of Maya prayers. Torres, so confronted, could only listen with closed -eyes and conjecture. When he heard the peon move on he stole a look and -saw him pause with apprehension at the narrow elbow-turn of the passage -which he must venture next. Torres saw his chance and swung the sword -aloft for the blow that would split the peon’s head in twain. - -Though this was the day and the very hour for the peon, the last second -had not yet ticked. Not there, in the thoroughfare of the dead, was he -destined to die under the hand of Torres. For Torres held his hand and -slowly lowered the point of the sword to the floor, while the peon -passed on into the elbow. - -The latter met up with his father, Leoncia, and Francis, just as Francis -was demanding the priest to run the knots again for fuller information -of the how and what that would open the ear of Hzatzl. - -“Put your hand into the mouth of Chia and draw forth the key,” the old -man commanded his reluctant son, who went about obeying him most -gingerly. - -“She won’t bite you——she’s stone,” Francis laughed at him in Spanish. - -“The Maya gods are never stone,” the old man reproved him. “They seem to -be stone, but they are alive, and ever alive, and under the stone, and -through the stone, and by the stone, as always, work their everlasting -will.” - -Leoncia shuddered away from him and clung against Francis, her hand on -his arm, as if for protection. - -“I know that something terrible is going to happen,” she gasped. “I -don’t like this place in the heart of a mountain among all these dead -old things. I like the blue of the sky and the balm of the sunshine, and -the widespreading sea. Something terrible is going to happen. I know -that something terrible is going to happen.” - -While Francis reassured her, the last seconds of the last minute for the -peon were ticking off. And when, summoning all his courage, he thrust -his hand into the mouth of the goddess, the last second ticked and the -clock struck. With a scream of terror he pulled back his hand and gazed -at the wrist where a tiny drop of blood exuded directly above an artery. -The mottled head of a snake thrust forth like a mocking, derisive tongue -and drew back and disappeared in the darkness of the mouth of the -goddess. - -“A viperine!” screamed Leoncia, recognising the reptile. - -And the peon, likewise recognising the viperine and knowing his certain -death by it, recoiled backward in horror, stepped into the hole, and -vanished down the nothingness which Chia had guarded with her feet for -so many centuries. - -For a full minute nobody spoke, then the old priest said: “I have -angered Chia, and she has slain my son.” - -“Nonsense,” Francis was comforting Leoncia. “The whole thing is natural -and explainable. What more natural than that a viperine should choose a -hole in a rock for a lair? It is the way of snakes. What more natural -than that a man, bitten by a viperine, should step backward? And what -more natural, with a hole behind him, than that he should fall into -it——” - -“That is then just natural!” she cried, pointing to a stream of crystal -water which boiled up over the lips of the hole and fountained up in the -air like a geyser. “He is right. Through stone itself the gods work -their everlasting will. He warned us. He knew from reading the knots of -the sacred tassel.” - -“Piffle!” Francis snorted. “Not the will of the gods, but of the ancient -Maya priests who invented their gods as well as this particular device. -Somewhere down that hole the peon’s body struck the lever that opened -stone flood-gates. And thus was released some subterranean body of water -in the mountain. This is that water. No goddess with a monstrous mouth -like that could ever have existed save in the monstrous imaginations of -men. Beauty and divinity are one. A real and true goddess is always -beautiful. Only man creates devils in all their ugliness.” - -So large was the stream that already the water was about their ankles. - -“It’s all right,” Francis said. “I noticed, all the way from the -entrance, the steady inclined plane of the floors of the rooms and -passages. Those old Mayas were engineers, and they built with an eye on -drainage. See how the water rushes away out through the passage.—Well, -old man, read your knots, where is the treasure?” - -“Where is my son?” the old man counter-demanded in dull and hopeless -tones. “Chia has slain my only born. For his mother I broke the Maya law -and stained the pure Maya blood with the mongrel blood of a woman of the -tierra caliente. Because I sinned for him that he might be, is he thrice -precious to me. What care I for treasure? My son is gone. The wrath of -the Maya gods is upon me.” - -With gurglings and burblings and explosive air-bubblings that advertised -the pressure behind, the water fountained high as ever into the air. -Leoncia was the first to notice the rising depth of the water on the -chamber floor. - -“It is half way to my knees,” she drew Francis’ attention. - -“And time to get out,” he agreed, grasping the situation. “The drainage -was excellently planned, perhaps. But that slide of rocks at the cliff -entrance has evidently blocked the planned way of the water. In the -other passages, being lower, the water is deeper, of course, than here. -Yet is it already rising here on the general level. And that way lies -the only way out. Come!” - -Thrusting Leoncia to lead in the place of safety, he caught the -apathetic priest by the hand and dragged him after. At the entrance of -the elbow turn the water was boiling above their knees. It was to their -waists as they emerged into the chamber of mummies. - -And out of the water, confronting Leoncia’s astounded gaze, arose the -helmeted head and ancient-mantled body of a mummy. Not this alone would -have astounded her, for other mummies were over-toppling, falling and -being washed about in the swirling waters. But this mummy moved and made -gasping noises for breath, and with eyes of life stared into her eyes. - -It was too much for ordinary human nature to bear——a four-centuries old -corpse dying the second death by drowning. Leoncia screamed, sprang -forward, and fled the way she had come, while Francis, in his own way -equally startled, let her go past as he drew his automatic pistol. But -the mummy, finding footing in the swift rush of the current, cried out: - -“Don’t shoot! It is I—Torres! I have just come back from the entrance. -Something has happened. The way is blocked. The water is over one’s head -and higher than the entrance, and rocks are falling.” - -“And your way is blocked in this direction,” Francis said, aiming the -revolver at him. - -“This is no time for quarreling,” Torres replied. “We must save all our -lives, and, afterwards, if quarrel we must, then quarrel we will.” - -Francis hesitated. - -“What is happening to Leoncia?” Torres demanded slyly. “I saw her run -back. May she not be in danger by herself?” - -Letting Torres live and dragging the old man by the arm, Francis waded -back to the chamber of the idols, followed by Torres. Here, at sight of -him, Leoncia screamed her horror again. - -“It’s only Torres,” Francis reassured her. “He gave me a devil of a -fright myself when I first saw him. But he’s real flesh. He’ll bleed if -a knife is stuck into him.—Come, old man! We don’t want to drown here -like rats in a trap. This is not all of the Maya mysteries. Read the -tale of the knots and get us out of this!” - -“The way is not _out_ but _in_,” the priest quavered. - -“And we’re not particular so long as we get away. But how can we get -in?” - -“From the mouth of Chia to the ear of Hzatzl,” was the answer. - -Francis was struck by a sudden grotesque and terrible thought. - -“Torres,” he said, “there is a key or something inside that stone lady’s -mouth there. You’re the nearest. Stick your hand in and get it.” - -Leoncia gasped with horror as she divined Francis’ vengeance. Of this -Torres took no notice, and gaily waded toward the goddess, saying: “Only -too glad to be of service.” - -And then Francis’ sense of fair play betrayed him. - -“Stop!” he commanded harshly, himself wading to the idol’s side. - -And Torres, at first looking on in puzzlement, saw what he had escaped. -Several times Francis fired his pistol into the stone mouth, while the -old priest moaned “Sacrilege!” Next, wrapping his coat around his arm -and hand, he groped into the mouth and pulled out the wounded viper by -the tail. With quick swings in the air he beat its head to a jelly -against the goddess’ side. - -Wrapping his hand and arm against the possibility of a second snake, -Francis thrust his hand into the mouth and drew forth a piece of worked -gold of the shape and size of the hole in Hzatzl’s ear. The old man -pointed to the ear, and Francis inserted the key. - -“Like a nickle-in-the-slot machine,” he remarked, as the key disappeared -from sight. “Now what’s going to happen? Let’s watch for the water to -drain suddenly away.” - -But the great stream continued to spout unabated out of the hole. With -an exclamation, Torres pointed to the wall, an apparently solid portion -of which was slowly rising. - -“The way out,” said Torres. - -“_In_, as the old man said,” Francis corrected. “Well, anyway, let’s -start.” - -All were through and well along the narrow passage beyond, when the old -Maya, crying, “My son!” turned and ran back. - -The section of wall was already descending into its original place, and -the priest had to crouch low in order to pass it. A moment later, it -stopped in its old position. So accurately was it contrived and fitted -that it immediately shut off the stream of water which had been flowing -out of the idol room. - - * * * * * - -Outside, save for a small river of water that flowed out of the base of -the cliff, there were no signs of what was vexing the interior of the -mountain. Henry and Ricardo, arriving, noted the stream, and Henry -observed: - -“That’s something new. There wasn’t any stream of water here when I -left.” - -A minute later he was saying, as he looked at a fresh slide of rock: -“This was the entrance to the cave. Now there is no entrance. I wonder -where the others are.” - -As if in answer, out of the mountain, borne by the spouting stream, shot -the body of a man. Henry and Ricardo pounced upon it and dragged it -clear. Recognizing it for the priest, Henry laid him face downward, -squatted astride of him, and proceeded to give him the first aid for the -drowned. - -Not for ten minutes did the old man betray signs of life, and not until -after another ten minutes did he open his eyes and look wildly about. - -“Where are they?” Henry asked. - -The old priest muttered in Maya, until Henry shook more thorough -consciousness into him. - -“Gone——all gone,” he gasped in Spanish. - -“Who?” Henry demanded, shook memory into the resuscitated one, and -demanded again. - -“My son; Chia slew him. Chia slew my son, as she slew them all.” - -“Who are the rest?” - -Followed more shakings and repetitions of the question. - -“The rich young Gringo who befriended my son, the enemy of the rich -young Gringo whom men call Torres, and the young woman of the Solanos -who was the cause of all that happened. I warned you. She should not -have come. Women are always a curse in the affairs of men. By her -presence, Chia, who is likewise a woman, was made angry. The tongue of -Chia is a viperine. By her tongue Chia struck and slew my son, and the -mountain vomited the ocean upon us there in the heart of the mountain, -and all are dead, slain by Chia. Woe is me! I have angered the gods. Woe -is me! Woe is me! And woe upon all who would seek the sacred treasure to -filch it from the gods of Maya!” - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - -Midway between the out-bursting stream of water and the rock-slide, -Henry and Ricardo stood in hurried debate. Beside them, crouched on the -ground, moaned and prayed the last priest of the Mayas. From him, by -numerous shakings that served to clear his addled old head, Henry had -managed to extract a rather vague account of what had occurred inside -the mountain. - -“Only his son was bitten and fell into that hole,” Henry reasoned -hopefully. - -“That’s right,” Ricardo concurred. “He never saw any damage, beyond a -wetting, happen to the rest of them.” - -“And they may be, right now, high up above the floor in some chamber,” -Henry went on. “Now, if we could attack the slide, we might open up the -cave and drain the water off. If they’re alive they can last for many -days, for lack of water is what kills quickly, and they’ve certainly -more water than they know what to do with. They can get along without -food for a long time. But what gets me is how Torres got inside with -them.” - -“Wonder if he wasn’t responsible for that attack of the Caroos upon us,” -Ricardo suggested. - -But Henry scouted the idea. - -“Anyway,” he said, “that isn’t the present proposition——which -proposition is: how to get inside that mountain on the chance that they -are still alive. You and I couldn’t go through that slide in a month. If -we could get fifty men to help, night and day shifts, we might open her -up in forty-eight hours. So, the primary thing is to get the men. Here’s -what we must do. I’ll take a mule and beat it back to that Caroo -community and promise them the contents of one of Francis’ check-books -if they will come and help. Failing that, I can get up a crowd in San -Antonio. So here’s where I pull out on the run. In the meantime, you can -work out trails and bring up all the mules, peons, grub and camp -equipment. Also, keep your ears to the cliff——they might start -signalling through it with tappings.” - - * * * * * - -Into the village of the Caroos Henry forced his mule——much to the -reluctance of the mule, and equally as much to the astonishment of the -Caroos, who thus saw their stronghold invaded single-handed by one of -the party they had attempted to annihilate. They squatted about their -doors and loafed in the sunshine, under a show of lethargy hiding the -astonishment that tingled through them and almost put them on their -toes. As has been ever the way, the very daring of the white man, over -savage and mongrel breeds, in this instance stunned the Caroos to -inaction. Only a man, they could not help but reason in their slow way, -a superior man, a noble or over-riding man, equipped with potencies -beyond their dreaming, could dare to ride into their strength of numbers -on a fagged and mutinous mule. - -They spoke a mongrel Spanish which he could understand, and, in turn, -they understood his Spanish; but what he told them concerning the -disaster in the sacred mountain had no effect of rousing them. With -impassive faces, shrugging shoulders of utmost indifference, they -listened to his proposition of a rescue and promise of high pay for -their time. - -“If a mountain has swallowed up the Gringos, then is it the will of God, -and who are we to interfere between God and His will?” they replied. “We -are poor men, but we care not to work for any man, nor do we care to -make war upon God. Also, it was the Gringos’ fault. This is not their -country. They have no right here playing pranks on our mountains. Their -troubles are between them and God. We have troubles enough of our own, -and our wives are unruly.” - -Long after the siesta hour, on his third and most reluctant mule, Henry -rode into sleepy San Antonio. In the main street, midway between the -court and the jail, he pulled up at sight of the Jefe Politico and the -little fat old judge, with, at their heels, a dozen gendarmes and a -couple of wretched prisoners——runaway peons from the henequen -plantations at Santos. While the judge and the Jefe listened to Henry’s -tale and appeal for help, the Jefe gave one slow wink to the judge, who -was his judge, his creature, body and soul of him. - -“Yes, certainly we will help you,” the Jefe said at the end, stretching -his arms and yawning. - -“How soon can we get the men together and start?” Henry demanded -eagerly. - -“As for that, we are very busy——are we not, honorable judge?” the Jefe -replied with lazy insolence. - -“We are very busy,” the judge yawned into Henry’s face. - -“Too busy for a time,” the Jefe went on. “We regret that not to-morrow -nor next day shall we be able to try and rescue your Gringos. Now, a -little later——” - -“Say next Christmas,” the judge suggested. - -“Yes,” concurred the Jefe with a grateful bow. “About next Christmas -come around and see us, and, if the pressure of our affairs has somewhat -eased, then, maybe possibly, we shall find it convenient to go about -beginning to attempt to raise the expedition you have requested. In the -meantime, good day to you, Senor Morgan.” - -“You mean that?” Henry demanded with wrathful face. - -“The very face he must have worn when he slew Senor Alfaro Solano -treacherously from the back,” the Jefe soliloquized ominously. - -But Henry ignored the later insult. - -“I’ll tell you what you are,” he flamed in righteous wrath. - -“Beware!” the judge cautioned him. - -“I snap my fingers at you,” Henry retorted. “You have no power over me. -I am a full-pardoned man by the President of Panama himself. And this is -what you are. You are half-breeds. You are mongrel pigs.” - -“Pray proceed, Senor,” said the Jefe, with the suave politeness of -deathly rage. - -“You’ve neither the virtues of the Spaniard nor of the Carib, but the -vices of both thrice compounded. Mongrel pigs, that’s what you are and -all you are, the pair of you.” - -“Are you through Senor?—quite through?” the Jefe queried softly. - -At the same moment he gave a signal to the gendarmes, who sprang upon -Henry from behind and disarmed him. - -“Even the President of the Republic of Panama cannot pardon in -anticipation of a crime not yet committed——am I right, judge?” said the -Jefe. - -“This is a fresh offense,” the judge took the cue promptly. “This Gringo -dog has blasphemed against the law.” - -“Then shall he be tried, and tried now, right here, immediately. We will -not bother to go back and reopen court. We shall try him, and when we -have disposed of him, we shall proceed. I have a very good bottle of -wine——” - -“I care not for wine,” the judge disclaimed hastily. “Mine shall be -mescal. And in the meantime, and now, having been both witness and -victim of the offense and there being no need of evidence further than -what I already possess, I find the prisoner guilty. Is there anything -you would suggest, Senor Mariano Vercara é Hijos?” - -“Twenty-four hours in the stocks to cool his heated Gringo head,” the -Jefe answered. - -“Such is the sentence,” the judge affirmed, “to begin at once. Take the -prisoner away, gendarmes, and put him in the stocks.” - - * * * * * - -Daybreak found Henry in the stocks, with a dozen hours of such -imprisonment already behind him, lying on his back asleep. But the sleep -was restless, being vexed subjectively by nightmare dreams of his -mountain-imprisoned companions, and, objectively, by the stings of -countless mosquitoes. So it was, twisting and squirming and striking at -the winged pests, he awoke to full consciousness of his predicament. And -this awoke the full expression of his profanity. Irritated beyond -endurance by the poison from a thousand mosquito-bites, he filled the -dawn so largely with his curses as to attract the attention of a man -carrying a bag of tools. This was a trim-figured, eagle-faced young man, -clad in the military garb of an aviator of the United States Army. He -deflected his course so as to come by the stocks, and paused, and -listened, and stared with quizzical admiration. - -“Friend,” he said, when Henry ceased to catch breath. “Last night, when -I found myself marooned here with half my outfit left on board, I did a -bit of swearing myself. But it was only a trifle compared with yours. I -salute you, sir. You’ve an army teamster skinned a mile. Now if you -don’t mind running over the string again, I shall be better equipped the -next time I want to do any cussing.” - -“And who in hell are you?” Henry demanded. “And what in hell are you -doing here?” - -“I don’t blame you,” the aviator grinned. “With a face swollen like that -you’ve got a right to be rude. And who beat you up? In hell, I haven’t -ascertained my status yet. But here on earth I am known as Parsons, -Lieutenant Parsons. I am not doing anything in hell as yet; but here in -Panama I am scheduled to fly across this day from the Atlantic to the -Pacific. Is there any way I may serve you before I start?” - -“Sure,” Henry nodded. “Take a tool out of that bag of yours and smash -this padlock. I’ll get rheumatism if I have to stick here much longer. -My name’s Morgan, and no man has beaten me up. Those are -mosquito-bites.” - -With several blows of a wrench, Lieutenant Parsons smashed the ancient -padlock and helped Henry to his feet. Even while rubbing the circulation -back into his feet and ankles, Henry, in a rush, was telling the army -aviator of the predicament and possibly tragic disaster to Leoncia and -Francis. - -“I love that Francis,” he concluded. “He is the dead spit of myself. -We’re more like twins, and we must be distantly related. As for the -senorita, not only do I love her but I am engaged to marry her. Now will -you help? Where’s the machine? It takes a long time to get to the Maya -Mountain on foot or mule-back; but if you give me a lift in your machine -I’d be there in no time, along with a hundred sticks of dynamite, which -you could procure for me and with which I could blow the side out of -that mountain and drain off the water.” - -Lieutenant Parsons hesitated. - -“Say yes, say yes,” Henry pleaded. - - * * * * * - -Back in the heart of the sacred mountain, the three imprisoned ones -found themselves in total darkness the instant the stone that blocked -the exit from the idol chamber had settled into place. Francis and -Leoncia groped for each other and touched hands. In another moment his -arm was around her, and the deliciousness of the contact robbed the -situation of half its terror. Near them they could hear Torres breathing -heavily. At last he muttered: - -“Mother of God, but that was a close shave! What next, I wonder?” - -“There’ll be many nexts before we get out of this neck of the woods,” -Francis assured him. “And we might as well start getting out.” - -The method of procedure was quickly arranged. Placing Leoncia behind -him, her hand clutching the hem of his jacket so as to be guided by him, -he moved ahead with his left hand in contact with the wall. Abreast of -him, Torres felt his way along the right-hand wall. By their voices they -could thus keep track of each other, measure the width of the passage, -and guard against being separated into forked passages. Fortunately, the -tunnel, for tunnel it truly was, had a smooth floor, so that, while they -groped their way, they did not stumble. Francis refused to use his -matches unless extremity arose, and took precaution against falling into -a possible pit by cautiously advancing one foot at a time and -ascertaining solid stone under it ere putting on his weight. As a -result, their progress was slow. At no greater speed than half a mile an -hour did they proceed. - -Once only did they encounter branching passages. Here he lighted a -precious match from his waterproof case, and found that between the two -passages there was nothing to choose. They were as like as two peas. - -“The only way is to try one,” he concluded, “and, if it gets us nowhere, -to retrace and try the other. There’s one thing certain: these passages -lead somewhere, or the Mayas wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of -making them.” - -Ten minutes later he halted suddenly and cried warning. The foot he had -advanced was suspended in emptiness where the floor should have been. -Another match was struck, and they found themselves on the edge of a -natural cavern of such proportions that neither to right nor left, nor -up nor down, nor across, could the tiny flame expose any limits to it. -But they did manage to make out a rough sort of stairway, half-natural, -half-improved by man, which fell away beneath them into the pit of -black. - -In another hour, having followed the path down the length of the floor -of the cavern, they were rewarded by a feeble glimmer of daylight, which -grew stronger as they advanced. Before they knew it, they had come to -the source of it——being much nearer than they had judged; and Francis, -tearing away vines and shrubbery, crawled out into the blaze of the -afternoon sun. In a moment Leoncia and Torres were beside him, gazing -down into a valley from an eyrie on a cliff. Nearly circular was the -valley, a full league in diameter, and it appeared to be mountain-walled -and cliff-walled for its entire circumference. - -“It is the Valley of Lost Souls,” Torres utterly solemnly. “I have heard -of it, but never did I believe.” - -“So have I heard of it and never believed,” Leoncia gasped. - -“And what of it?” demanded Francis. “We’re not lost souls, but good -flesh-and-blood persons. We should worry.” - -“But Francis, listen,” Leoncia said. “The tales I have heard of it, ever -since I was a little girl, all agreed that no person who ever got into -it ever got out again.” - -“Granting that that is so,” Francis could not help smiling, “then how -did the tales come out? If nobody ever came out again to tell about it, -how does it happen that everybody outside knows about it?” - -“I don’t know,” Leoncia admitted. “I only tell you what I have heard. -Besides, I never believed. But this answers all the descriptions of the -tales.” - -“Nobody ever got out,” Torres affirmed with the same solemn utterance. - -“Then how do you know that anybody got in?” Francis persisted. - -“All the lost souls live here,” was the reply. “That is why we’ve never -seen them, because they never got out. I tell you, Mr. Francis Morgan, -that I am no creature without reason. I have been educated. I have -studied in Europe, and I have done business in your own New York. I know -science and philosophy; and yet do I know that this is the valley, once -in, from which no one emerges.” - -“Well, we’re not in yet, are we?” retorted Francis with a slight -manifestation of impatience. “And we don’t have to go in, do we?” He -crawled forward to the verge of the shelf of loose soil and crumbling -stone in order to get a better view of the distant object his eye had -just picked out. “If that isn’t a grass-thatched roof——” - -At that moment the soil broke away under his hands. In a flash, the -whole soft slope on which they rested broke away, and all three were -sliding and rolling down the steep slope in the midst of a miniature -avalanche of soil, gravel, and grass-tufts. - -The two men picked themselves up first, in the thicket of bushes which -had arrested them; but, before they could get to Leoncia, she, too, was -up and laughing. - -“Just as you were saying we didn’t have to go into the valley!” she -gurgled at Francis. “Now will you believe?” - -But Francis was busy. Reaching out his hand, he caught and stopped a -familiar object bounding down the steep slope after them. It was Torres’ -helmet purloined from the chamber of mummies, and to Torres he tossed -it. - -“Throw it away,” Leoncia said. - -“It’s the only protection against the sun I possess,” was his reply, as, -turning it over in his hands, his eyes lighted upon an inscription on -the inside. He showed it to his companions, reading it aloud: - -“DA VASCO.” - -“I have heard,” Leoncia breathed. - -“And you heard right,” Torres nodded. “Da Vasco was my direct ancestor. -My mother was a Da Vasco. He came over the Spanish Main with Cortez.” - -“He mutinied,” Leoncia took up the tale. “I remember it well from my -father and from my Uncle Alfaro. With a dozen comrades he sought the -Maya treasure. They led a sea-tribe of Caribs, a hundred strong -including their women, as auxiliaries. Mendoza, under Cortez’s -instructions, pursued; and his report, in the archives, so Uncle Alfaro -told me, says that they were driven into the Valley of the Lost Souls -where they were left to perish miserably.” - -“And he evidently tried to get out by the way we’ve just come in,” -Torres continued, “and the Mayas caught him and made a mummy of him.” - -He jammed the ancient helmet down on his head, saying: - -“Low as the sun is in the afternoon sky, it bites my crown like acid.” - -“And famine bites at me like acid,” Francis confessed. “Is the valley -inhabited?” - -“I should know, Senor,” Torres replied. “There is the narrative of -Mendoza, in which he reported that Da Vasco and his party were left -there ‘to perish miserably.’ This I do know: they were never seen again -of men.” - -“Looks as though plenty of food could be grown in a place like this——” -Francis began, but broke off at sight of Leoncia picking berries from a -bush. “Here! Stop that, Leoncia! We’ve got enough troubles without -having a very charming but very much poisoned young woman on our hands.” - -“They’re all right,” she said, calmly eating. “You can see where the -birds have been pecking and eating them.” - -“In which case I apologize and join you,” Francis cried, filling his -mouth with the luscious fruit. “And if I could catch the birds that did -the pecking, I’d eat them too.” - -By the time they had eased the sharpest of their hunger-pangs, the sun -was so low that Torres removed the helmet of Da Vasco. - -“We might as well stop here for the night,” he said. “I left my shoes in -the cave with the mummies, and lost Da Vasco’s old boots during the -swimming. My feet are cut to ribbons, and there’s plenty of seasoned -grass here out of which I can plait a pair of sandals.” - -While occupied with this task, Francis built a fire and gathered a -supply of wood, for, despite the low latitude, the high altitude made -fire a necessity for a night’s lodging. Ere he had completed the supply, -Leoncia, curled up on her side, her head in the hollow of her arm, was -sound asleep. Against the side of her away from the fire, Francis -thoughtfully packed a mound of dry leaves and dry forest mould. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - -Daybreak in the Valley of the Lost Souls, and the Long House in the -village of the Tribe of the Lost Souls. Fully eighty feet in length was -the Long House, with half as much in width, built of adobe bricks, and -rising thirty feet to a gable roof thatched with straw. Out of the house -feebly walked the Priest of the Sun——an old man, tottery on his legs, -sandal-footed, clad in a long robe of rude home-spun cloth, in whose -withered Indian face were haunting reminiscences of the racial -lineaments of the ancient conquistadores. On his head was a curious cap -of gold, arched over by a semi-circle of polished golden spikes. The -effect was obvious, namely, the rising sun and the rays of the rising -sun. - -He tottered across the open space to where a great hollow log swung -suspended between two posts carved with totemic and heraldic devices. He -glanced at the eastern horizon, already red with the dawning, to -reassure himself that he was on time, lifted a stick, the end of which -was fiber-woven into a ball, and struck the hollow log. Feeble as he -was, and light as was the blow, the hollow log boomed and reverberated -like distant thunder. - -Almost immediately, while he continued slowly to beat, from the -grass-thatched dwellings that formed the square about the Long House, -emerged the Lost Souls. Men and women, old and young, and children and -babes in arms, they all came out and converged upon the Sun Priest. No -more archaic spectacle could be witnessed in the twentieth-century -world. Indians, indubitably they were, yet in many of their faces were -the racial reminiscences of the Spaniard. Some faces, to all appearance, -were all Spanish. Others, by the same token, were all Indian. But -betwixt and between, the majority of them betrayed the inbred blend of -both races. But more bizarre was their costume——unremarkable in the -women, who were garbed in long, discreet robes of home-spun cloth, but -most remarkable in the men, whose home-spun was grotesquely fashioned -after the style of Spanish dress that obtained in Spain at the time of -Columbus’ first voyage. Homely and sad-looking were the men and women—as -of a breed too closely interbred to retain joy of life. This was true of -the youths and maidens, of the children, and of the very babes against -breasts——true, with the exception of two, one, a child-girl of ten, in -whose face was fire, and spirit, and intelligence. Amongst the sodden -faces of the sodden and stupid Lost Souls, her face stood out like a -flaming flower. Only like hers was the face of the old Sun Priest, -cunning, crafty, intelligent. - -While the priest continued to beat the resounding log, the entire tribe -formed about him in a semi-circle, facing the east. As the sun showed -the edge of its upper rim, the priest greeted it and hailed it with a -quaint and medieval Spanish, himself making low obeisance thrice -repeated, while the tribe prostrated itself. And, when the full sun -shone clear of the horizon, all the tribe, under the direction of the -priest, arose and uttered a joyful chant. Just as he had dismissed his -people, a thin pillar of smoke, rising in the quiet air across the -valley, caught the priest’s eye. He pointed it out, and commanded -several of the young men. - -“It rises in the Forbidden Place of Fear where no member of the tribe -may wander. It is some devil of a pursuer sent out by our enemies who -have vainly sought our hiding-place through the centuries. He must not -escape to make report, for our enemies are powerful, and we shall be -destroyed. Go. Kill him that we may not be killed.” - - * * * * * - -About the fire, which had been replenished at intervals throughout the -night, Leoncia, Francis, and Torres lay asleep, the latter with his -new-made sandals on his feet and with the helmet of Da Vasco pulled -tightly down on his head to keep off the dew. Leoncia was the first to -awaken, and so curious was the scene that confronted her, that she -watched quietly through her down-dropped lashes. Three of the strange -Lost Tribe men, bows still stretched and arrows drawn in what was -evident to her as the interrupted act of slaying her and her companions, -were staring with amazement at the face of the unconscious Torres. They -looked at each other in doubt, let their bows straighten, and shook -their heads in patent advertisement that they were not going to kill. -Closer they crept upon Torres, squatting on their hams the better to -scrutinize his face and the helmet, which latter seemed to arouse their -keenest interest. - -From where she lay, Leoncia was able privily to nudge Francis’ shoulder -with her foot. He awoke quietly, and quietly sat up, attracting the -attention of the strangers. Immediately they made the universal peace -sign, laying down their bows and extending their palms outward in token -of being weaponless. - -“Good morning, merry strangers,” Francis addressed them in English, -which made them shake their heads while it aroused Torres. - -“They must be Lost Souls,” Leoncia whispered to Francis. - -“Or real estate agents,” he smiled back. “At least the valley is -inhabited.—Torres, who’re your friends? From the way they regard you, -one would think they were relatives of yours.” - -Quite ignoring them, the three Lost Souls drew apart a slight distance -and debated in low sibilant tones. - -“Sounds like a queer sort of Spanish,” Francis observed. - -“It’s medieval, to say the least,” Leoncia confirmed. - -“It’s the Spanish of the conquistadores pretty badly gone to seed,” -Torres contributed. “You see I was right. The Lost Souls never get -away.” - -“At any rate they must give and be given in marriage,” Francis quipped, -“else how explain these three young huskies?” - -But by this time the three huskies, having reached agreement, were -beckoning them with encouraging gestures to follow across the valley. - -“They’re good-natured and friendly cusses, to say the least, despite -their sorrowful mug,” said Francis, as they prepared to follow. “But did -you ever see a sadder-faced aggregation in your life? They must have -been born in the dark of the moon, or had all their sweet gazelles die, -or something or other worse.” - -“It’s just the kind of faces one would expect of lost souls,” Leoncia -answered. - -“And if we never get out of here, I suppose we’ll get to looking a whole -lot sadder than they do,” he came back. “Anyway, I hope they’re leading -us to breakfast. Those berries were better than nothing, but that is not -saying much.” - -An hour or more afterward, still obediently following their guides, they -emerged upon the clearings, the dwelling places, and the Long House of -the tribe. - -“These are descendants of Da Vasco’s party and the Caribs,” Torres -affirmed, as he glanced over the assembled faces. “That is -incontrovertible on the face of it.” - -“And they’ve relapsed from the Christian religion of Da Vasco to old -heathen worship,” added Francis. “Look at that altar——there. It’s a -stone altar, and, from the smell of it, that is no breakfast, but a -sacrifice that is cooking, in spite of the fact that it smells like -mutton.” - -“Thank heaven it’s only a lamb,” Leoncia breathed. “The old Sun Worship -included human sacrifice. And this is Sun Worship. See that old man -there in the long shroud with the golden-rayed cap of gold. He’s a sun -priest. Uncle Alfaro has told me all about the sun-worshipers.” - -Behind and above the altar, was a great metal image of the sun. - -“Gold, all gold,” Francis whispered, “and without alloy. Look at those -spikes, the size of them, yet so pure is the metal that I wager a child -could bend them any way it wished and even tie knots in them.” - -“Merciful God!—look at that!” Leoncia gasped, indicating with her eyes a -crude stone bust that stood to one side of the altar and slightly lower. -“It is the face of Torres. It is the face of the mummy in the Maya -cave.” - -“And there is an inscription——” Francis stepped closer to see and was -peremptorily waved back by the priest. “It says, ‘Da Vasco.’ Notice that -it has the same sort of helmet that Torres is wearing.—And, say! Glance -at the priest! If he doesn’t look like Torres’ full brother, I’ve never -fancied a resemblance in my life!” - -The priest, with angry face and imperative gesture, motioned Francis to -silence, and made obeisance to the cooking sacrifice. As if in response, -a flaw of wind put out the flame of the cooking. - -“The Sun God is angry,” the priest announced with great solemnity, his -queer Spanish nevertheless being intelligible to the newcomers. -“Strangers have come among us and remain unslain. That is why the Sun -God is angry. Speak, you young men who have brought the strangers alive -to our altar. Was not my bidding, which is ever and always the bidding -of the Sun God, that you should slay them?” - -One of the three young men stepped tremblingly forth, and with trembling -forefingers pointed at the face of Torres and at the face of the stone -bust. - -“We recognised him,” he quavered, “and we could not slay him for we -remembered prophecy and that our great ancestor would some day return. -Is this stranger he? We do not know. We dare not know nor judge. Yours, -O priest, is the knowledge, and yours be the judgment. Is this he?” - -The priest looked closely at Torres and exclaimed incoherently. Turning -his back abruptly, he rekindled the sacred cooking fire from a pot of -fire at the base of an altar. But the fire flamed up, flickered down, -and died. - -“The Sun God is angry,” the priest reiterated; whereat the Lost Souls -beat their breasts and moaned and lamented. “The sacrifice is -unacceptable, for the fire will not burn. Strange things are afoot. This -is a matter of the deeper mysteries which I alone may know. We shall not -sacrifice the strangers ... now. I must take time to inform myself of -the Sun God’s will.” - -With his hands he waved the tribespeople away, ceasing the ceremonial -half-completed, and directed that the three captives be taken into the -Long House. - -“I can’t follow the play,” Francis whispered in Leoncia’s ear, “but just -the same I hope here’s where we eat.” - -“Look at that pretty little girl,” said Leoncia, indicating with her -eyes the child with the face of fire and spirit. - -“Torres has already spotted her,” Francis whispered back. “I caught him -winking at her. He doesn’t know the play, nor which way the cat will -jump, but he isn’t missing a chance to make friends. We’ll have to keep -an eye on him, for he’s a treacherous hound and capable of throwing us -over any time if it would serve to save his skin.” - -Inside the Long House, seated on rough-plaited mats of grass, they found -themselves quickly served with food. Clear drinking water and a thick -stew of meat and vegetables were served in generous quantity in queer, -unglazed pottery jars. Also, they were given hot cakes of ground Indian -corn that were not altogether unlike tortillas. - -After the women who served had departed, the little girl, who had led -them and commanded them, remained. Torres resumed his overtures, but -she, graciously ignoring him, devoted herself to Leoncia who seemed to -fascinate her. - -“She’s a sort of hostess, I take it,” Francis explained. “You know—like -the maids of the village in Samoa, who entertain all travellers and all -visitors of no matter how high rank, and who come pretty close to -presiding at all functions and ceremonials. They are selected by the -high chiefs for their beauty, their virtue, and their intelligence. And -this one reminds me very much of them, except that she’s so awfully -young.” - -Closer she came to Leoncia, and, fascinated though she patently was by -the beautiful strange woman, in her bearing of approach there was no -hint of servility nor sense of inferiority. - -“Tell me,” she said, in the quaint archaic Spanish of the valley, “is -that man really Capitan Da Vasco returned from his home in the sun in -the sky?” - -Torres smirked and bowed, and proclaimed proudly: “I am a Da Vasco.” - -“Not _a_ Da Vasco, but Da Vasco himself,” Leoncia coached him in -English. - -“It’s a good bet—play it!” Francis commanded, likewise in English. “It -may pull us all out of a hole. I’m not particularly stuck on that -priest, and he seems the high-cockalorum over these Lost Souls.” - -“I have at last come back from the sun,” Torres told the little maid, -taking his cue. - -She favored him with a long and unwavering look, in which they could see -her think, and judge, and appraise. Then, with expressionless face, she -bowed to him respectfully, and, with scarcely a glance at Francis, -turned to Leoncia and favored her with a friendly smile that was an -illumination. - -“I did not know that God made women so beautiful as you,” the little -maid said softly, ere she turned to go out. At the door she paused to -add, “The Lady Who Dreams is beautiful, but she is strangely different -from you.” - -But hardly had she gone, when the Sun Priest, followed by a number of -young men, entered, apparently for the purpose of removing the dishes -and the uneaten food. Even as some of them were in the act of bending -over to pick up the dishes, at a signal from the priest they sprang upon -the three guests, bound their hands and arms securely behind them, and -led them out to the Sun God’s altar before the assembled tribe. Here, -where they observed a crucible on a tripod over a fierce fire, they were -tied to fresh-sunken posts, while many eager hands heaped fuel about -them to their knees. - -“Now buck up—be as haughty as a real Spaniard!” Francis at the same time -instructed and insulted Torres. “You’re Da Vasco himself. Hundreds of -years before, you were here on earth in this very valley with the -ancestors of these mongrels.” - -“You must die,” the Sun Priest was now addressing them, while the Lost -Souls nodded unanimously. “For four hundred years, as we count our -sojourn in this valley, have we slain all strangers. You were not slain, -and behold the instant anger of the Sun God: _our altar fire went out_.” -The Lost Souls moaned and howled and pounded their chests. “Therefore, -to appease the Sun God, you shall now die.” - -“Beware!” Torres proclaimed, prompted in whispers, sometimes by Francis, -sometimes by Leoncia. “I am Da Vasco. I have just come from the sun.” He -nodded with his head, because of his tied hands, at the stone bust. “I -am that Da Vasco. I led your ancestors here four hundred years ago, and -I left you here, commanding you to remain until my return.” - -The Sun Priest hesitated. - -“Well, priest, speak up and answer the divine Da Vasco,” Francis spoke -harshly. - -“How do I know that he is divine?” the priest countered quickly. “Do I -not look much like him myself? Am I therefore divine? Am I Da Vasco? Is -he Da Vasco? Or may not Da Vasco be yet in the sun?—for truly I know -that I am man born of woman three-score and eighteen years ago and that -I am not Da Vasco.” - -“You have not spoken to Da Vasco!” Francis threatened, as he bowed in -vast humility to Torres and hissed at him in English: “Be haughty, damn -you, be haughty.” - -The priest wavered for the moment, and then addressed Torres. - -“I am the faithful priest of the sun. Not lightly can I relinquish my -trust. If you are the divine Da Vasco, then answer me one question.” - -Torres nodded with magnificent haughtiness. - -“Do you love gold?” - -“Love gold!” Torres jeered. “I am a great captain in the sun, and the -sun is made of gold. Gold? It is like to me this dirt beneath my feet -and the rock of which your mighty mountains are composed.” - -“Bravo,” Leoncia whispered approval. - -“Then, O divine Da Vasco,” the Sun Priest said humbly, although he could -not quite muffle the ring of triumph in his voice, “are you fit to pass -the ancient and usual test. When you have drunk the drink of gold, and -can still say that you are Da Vasco, then will I, and all of us, bow -down and worship you. We have had occasional intruders in this valley. -Always did they come athirst for gold. But when we had satisfied their -thirst, inevitably they thirsted no more, for they were dead.” - -As he spoke, while the Lost Souls looked on eagerly, and while the three -strangers looked on with no less keenness of apprehension, the priest -thrust his hand into the open mouth of a large leather bag and began -dropping handfuls of gold nuggets into the heated crucible of the -tripod. So near were they, that they could see the gold melt into fluid -and rise up in the crucible like the drink it was intended to be. - -The little maid, daring on her extraordinary position in the Lost Souls -Tribe, came up to the Sun Priest and spoke that all might hear. - -“That is Da Vasco, the Capitan Da Vasco, the divine Capitan Da Vasco, -who led our ancestors here the long long time ago.” - -The priest tried to silence her with a frown. But the maid repeated her -statement, pointing eloquently from the bust to Torres and back again; -and the priest felt his grip on the situation slipping, while inwardly -he cursed the sinful love of the mother of the little girl which had -made her his daughter. - -“Hush!” he commanded sternly. “These are things of which you know -nothing. If he be the Capitan Da Vasco, being divine he will drink the -gold and be unharmed.” - -Into a rude pottery pitcher, which had been heated in the pot of fire at -the base of the altar, he poured the molten gold. At a signal, several -of the young men laid aside their spears, and, with the evident -intention of prying her teeth apart, advanced on Leoncia. - -“Hold, priest!” Francis shouted stentoriously. “She is not divine as Da -Vasco is divine. Try the golden drink on Da Vasco.” - -Whereat Torres bestowed upon Francis a look of malignant anger. - -“Stand on your haughty pride,” Francis instructed him. “Decline the -drink. Show them the inside of your helmet.” - -“I will not drink!” Torres cried, half in a panic as the priest turned -to him. - -“You shall drink. If you are Da Vasco, the divine capitan from the sun, -we will then know it and we will fall down and worship you.” - -Torres looked appeal at Francis, which the priest’s narrow eyes did not -fail to catch. - -“Looks as though you’ll have to drink it,” Francis said dryly. “Anyway, -do it for the lady’s sake and die like a hero.” - -With a sudden violent strain at the cords that bound him, Torres jerked -one hand free, pulled off his helmet, and held it so that the priest -could gaze inside. - -“Behold what is graven therein,” Torres commanded. - -Such was the priest’s startlement at sight of the inscription, DA VASCO, -that the pitcher fell from his hand. The molten gold, spilling forth, -set the dry debris on the ground afire, while one of the spearmen, -spattered on the foot, danced away with wild yells of pain. But the Sun -Priest quickly recovered himself. Seizing the fire pot, he was about to -set fire to the faggots heaped about his three victims, when the little -maid intervened. - -“The Sun God would not let the great captain drink the drink,” she said. -“The Sun God spilled it from your hand.” - -And when all the Lost Souls began to murmur that there was more in the -matter than appeared to their priest, the latter was compelled to hold -his hand. Nevertheless was he resolved on the destruction of the three -intruders. So, craftily, he addressed his people. - -“We shall wait for a sign.—Bring oil. We will give the Sun God time for -a sign.——Bring a candle.” - -Pouring the jar of oil over the faggots to make them more inflammable, -he set the lighted stub of a candle in the midst of the saturated fuel, -and said: - -“The life of the candle will be the duration of the time for the sign. -Is it well, O People?” - -And all the Lost Souls murmured, “It is well.” - -Torres looked appeal to Francis, who replied: - -“The old brute certainly pinched on the length of the candle. It won’t -last five minutes at best, and, maybe, inside three minutes we’ll be -going up in smoke.” - -“What can we do?” Torres demanded frantically, while Leoncia looked -bravely, with a sad brave smile of love, into Francis’ eyes. - -“Pray for rain,” Francis answered. “And the sky is as clear as a bell. -After that, die game. Don’t squeal too loud.” - -And his eyes returned to Leoncia’s and expressed what he had never dared -express to her before——his full heart of love. Apart, by virtue of the -posts to which they were tied and which separated them, they had never -been so close together, and the bond that drew them and united them was -their eyes. - -First of all, the little maid, gazing into the sky for the sign, saw it. -Torres, who had eyes only for the candle stub, nearly burned to its -base, heard the maid’s cry and looked up. And at the same time he heard, -as all of them heard, the droning flight as of some monstrous insect in -the sky. - -“An aeroplane,” Francis muttered. “Torres, claim it for the sign.” - -But no need to claim was necessary. Above them not more than a hundred -feet, it swooped and circled, the first aeroplane the Lost Souls had -ever seen, while from it, like a benediction from heaven, descended the -familiar: - - “Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew.” - -Completing the circle and rising to an elevation of nearly a thousand -feet, they saw an object detach itself directly overhead, fall like a -plummet for three hundred feet, then expand into a spread parachute, -with beneath it like a spider suspended on a web, the form of a man, -which last, as it neared the ground, again began to sing: - - “Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew.” - -And then event crowded on event with supremest rapidity. The stub of the -candle fell apart, the flaming wick fell into the tiny lake of molten -fat, the lake flamed, and the oil-saturated faggots about it flamed. And -Henry, landing in the thick of the Lost Souls, blanketing a goodly -portion of them under his parachute, in a couple of leaps was beside his -friends and kicking the blazing faggots right and left. Only for a -second did he desist. This was when the Sun Priest interfered. A right -hook to the jaw put that aged confidant of God down on his back, and, -while he slowly recuperated and crawled to his feet, Henry slashed clear -the lashings that bound Leoncia, Francis, and Torres. His arms were out -to embrace Leoncia, when she thrust him away with: - -“Quick! There is no time for explanation. Down on your knees to Torres -and pretend you are his slave——and don’t talk Spanish; talk English.” - -Henry could not comprehend, and, while Leoncia reassured him with her -eyes, he saw Francis prostrate himself at the feet of their common -enemy. - -“Gee!” Henry muttered, as he joined Francis. “Here goes. But it’s worse -than rat poison.” - -Leoncia followed him, and all the Lost Souls went down prone before the -Capitan Da Vasco who received in their midst celestial messengers direct -from the sun. All went down, except the priest, who, mightily shaken, -was meditating doing it, when the mocking devil of melodrama in Torres’ -soul prompted him to overdo his part. - -As haughtily as Francis had coached him, he lifted his right foot and -placed it down on Henry’s neck, incidentally covering and pinching most -of his ear. - -And Henry literally went up in the air. - -“You can’t step on my ear, Torres!” he shouted, at the same time -dropping him, as he had dropped the priest with his right hook. - -“And now the beans are spilled,” Francis commented in dry and spiritless -disgust. “The Sun God stuff is finished right here and now.” - -The Sun Priest, exultantly signaling his spearmen, grasped the -situation. But Henry dropped the muzzle of his automatic pistol to the -old priest’s midrif; and the priest, remembering the legends of deadly -missiles propelled by the mysterious substance called “gunpowder,” -smiled appeasingly and waved back his spearmen. - -“This is beyond my powers of wisdom and judgment,” he addressed his -tribespeople, while ever his wavering glance returned to the muzzle of -Henry’s pistol. “I shall appeal to the last resort. Let the messenger be -sent to wake the Lady Who Dreams. Tell her that strangers from the sky, -and, mayhap, the sun, are here in our valley. And that only the wisdom -of her far dreams will make clear to us what we do not understand, and -what even I do not understand.” - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - -Convoyed by the spearmen, the party of Leoncia, the two Morgans, and -Torres, was led through the pleasant fields, all under a high state of -primitive cultivation, and on across running streams and through -woodland stretches and knee deep pastures where grazed cows of so -miniature a breed that, full-grown, they were no larger than young -calves. - -“They’re milch cows without mistake,” Henry commented. “And they’re -perfect beauties. But did you ever see such dwarfs! A strong man could -lift up the biggest specimen and walk off with it.” - -“Don’t fool yourself,” Francis spoke up. “Take that one over there, the -black one. I’ll wager it’s not an ounce under three hundredweight.” - -“How much will you wager?” Henry challenged. - -“Name the bet,” was the reply. - -“Then a hundred even,” Henry stated, “that I can lift it up and walk -away with it.” - -“Done.” - -But the bet was never to be decided, for the instant Henry left the path -he was poked back by the spearmen, who scowled and made signs that they -were to proceed straight ahead. - -Where the way came to lead past the foot of a very rugged cliff, they -saw above them many goats. - -“Domesticated,” said Francis. “Look at the herd boys.” - -“I was sure it was goat-meat in that stew,” Henry nodded. “I always did -like goats. If the Lady Who Dreams, whoever she may be, vetoes the -priest and lets us live, and if we have to stay with the Lost Souls for -the rest of our days, I’m going to petition to be made master goatherd -of the realm, and I’ll build you a nice little cottage, Leoncia, and you -can become the Exalted Cheese-maker to the Queen.” - -But he did not whimsically wander farther, for, at that moment, they -emerged upon a lake so beautiful as to bring a long whistle from -Francis, a hand-clap from Leoncia, and a muttered ejaculation of -appreciation from Torres. Fully a mile in length it stretched, with more -than half the same in width, and was a perfect oval. With one exception, -no habitation broke the fringe of trees, bamboo thickets, and rushes -that circled its shore, even along the foot of the cliff where the -bamboo was exceptionally luxuriant. On the placid surface was so vividly -mirrored the surrounding mountains that the eye could scarcely discern -where reality ended and reflection began. - -In the midst of her rapture over the perfect reflection, Leoncia broke -off to exclaim her disappointment in that the water was not crystal -clear: - -“What a pity it is so muddy!” - -“That’s because of the wash of the rich soil of the valley floor,” Henry -elucidated. “It’s hundreds of feet deep, that soil.” - -“The whole valley must have been a lake at some time,” Francis -concurred. “Run your eye along the cliff and see the old water-lines. I -wonder what made it shrink.” - -“Earthquake, most likely—opened up some subterranean exit and drained it -off to its present level—and keeps on draining it, too. Its rich -chocolate color shows the amount of water that flows in all the time, -and that it doesn’t have much chance to settle. It’s the catch-basin for -the entire circling watershed of the valley.” - -“Well, there’s one house at least,” Leoncia was saying five minutes -later, as they rounded an angle of the cliff and saw, tucked against the -cliff and extending out over the water, a low-roofed bungalow-like -dwelling. - -The piles were massive tree-trunks, but the walls of the house were of -bamboo, and the roof was thatched with grass-straw. So isolated was it, -that the only access, except by boat, was a twenty-foot bridge so narrow -that two could not walk on it abreast. At either end of the bridge, -evidently armed guards or sentries, stood two young men of the tribe. -They moved aside, at a gesture of command from the Sun Priest, and let -the party pass, although the two Morgans did not fail to notice that the -spearmen who had accompanied them from the Long House remained beyond -the bridge. - -Across the bridge and entered into the bungalow-like dwelling on stilts, -they found themselves in a large room better furnished, crude as the -furnishings were, than they would have expected in the Valley of Lost -Souls. The grass mats on the floor were of fine and careful weave, and -the shades of split bamboo that covered the window-openings were of -patient workmanship. At the far end, against the wall, was a huge golden -emblem of the rising sun similar to the one before the altar by the Long -House. But by far most striking, were two living creatures who strangely -inhabited the place and who scarcely moved. Beneath the rising sun, -raised above the floor on a sort of dais, was a many-pillowed divan that -was half-throne. And on the divan, among the pillows, clad in a -softly-shimmering robe of some material no one of them had seen before, -reclined a sleeping woman. Only her breast softly rose and softly fell -to her breathing. No Lost Soul was she, of the inbred and degenerate -mixture of Carib and Spaniard. On her head was a tiara of beaten gold -and sparkling gems so large that almost it seemed a crown. - -Before her, on the floor, were two tripods of gold——the one containing -smouldering fire, the other, vastly larger, a golden bowl fully a fathom -in diameter. Between the tripods, resting with outstretched paws like -the Sphinx, with unblinking eyes and without a quiver, a great dog, -snow-white of coat and resembling a Russian wolf-hound, stedfastly -regarded the intruders. - -“She looks like a lady, and seems like a queen, and certainly dreams to -the queen’s taste,” Henry whispered, and earned a scowl from the Sun -Priest. - -Leoncia was breathless, but Torres shuddered and crossed himself, and -said: - -“This I have never heard of the Valley of Lost Souls. This woman who -sleeps is a Spanish lady. She is of the pure Spanish blood. She is -Castilian. I am as certain, as that I stand here, that her eyes are -blue. And yet that pallor!” Again he shuddered. “It is an unearthly -sleep. It is as if she tampered with drugs, and had long tampered with -drugs——” - -“The very thing!” Francis broke in with excited whispers. “The Lady Who -Dreams drug dreams. They must keep her here doped up as a sort of -super-priestess or super-oracle.—That’s all right, old priest,” he broke -off to say in Spanish. “If we wake her up, what of it? We have been -brought here to meet her, and, I hope, awake.” - -The Lady stirred, as if the whispering had penetrated her profound of -sleep, and, for the first time, the dog moved, turning his head toward -her so that her down-dropping hand rested on his neck caressingly. The -priest was imperative, now, in his scowls and gestured commands for -silence. And in absolute silence they stood and watched the awakening of -the oracle. - -Slowly she drew herself half upright, paused, and re-caressed the happy -wolf hound, whose cruel fangs were exposed in a formidable, long-jawed -laugh of joy. Awesome the situation was to them, yet more awesome it -became to them when she turned her eyes full upon them for the first -time. Never had they seen such eyes, in which smouldered the world and -all the worlds. Half way did Leoncia cross herself, while Torres, swept -away by his own awe, completed his own crossing of himself and with -moving lips of silence enunciated his favorite prayer to the Virgin. -Even Francis and Henry looked, and could not take their gaze away from -the twin wells of blue that seemed almost dark in the shade of the long -black eyelashes. - -“A blue-eyed brunette,” Francis managed to whisper. - -But such eyes! Round they were, rather than long. And yet they were not -round. Square they might have been, had they not been more round than -square. Such shape had they that they were as if blocked off in the -artist’s swift and sketchy way of establishing circles out of the sums -of angles. The long, dark lashes veiled them and perpetuated the -illusion of their darkness. Yet was there no surprise nor startlement in -them at first sight of her visitors. Dreamily incurious were they, yet -were they languidly certain of comprehension of what they beheld. Still -further, to awe those who so beheld, her eyes betrayed a complicated -totality of paradoxical alivenesses. Pain trembled its quivering anguish -perpetually impending. Sensitiveness moistly hinted of itself like a -spring rain-shower on the distant sea-horizon or a dew-fall of a -mountain morning. Pain—ever pain—resided in the midst of languorous -slumberousness. The fire of immeasurable courage threatened to glint -into the electric spark of action and fortitude. Deep slumber, like a -palpitant, tapestried background, seemed ever ready to obliterate all in -sleep. And over all, through all, permeating all, brooded ageless -wisdom. This was accentuated by cheeks slightly hollowed, hinting of -asceticism. Upon them was a flush, either hectic or of the paint-box. - -When she stood up, she showed herself to be slender and fragile as a -fairy. Tiny were her bones, not too-generously flesh-covered; yet the -lines of her were not thin. Had either Henry or Francis registered his -impression aloud, he would have proclaimed her the roundest thin woman -he had ever seen. - -The Sun Priest prostrated his aged frame till he lay stretched flat out -on the floor, his old forehead burrowing into the grass mat. The rest -remained upright, although Torres evidenced by a crumpling at the knees -that he would have followed the priest’s action had his companions shown -signs of accompanying him. As it was, his knees did partly crumple, but -straightened again and stiffened under the controlled example of Leoncia -and the Morgans. - -At first the Lady had no eyes for aught but Leoncia; and, after a -careful looking over of her, with a curt upward lift of head she -commanded her to approach. Too imperative by far was it, in Leoncia’s -thought, to proceed from so etherially beautiful a creature, and she -sensed with immediacy an antagonism that must exist between them. So she -did not move, until the Sun Priest muttered harshly that she must obey. -She approached, regardless of the huge, long-haired hound, threading -between the tripods and past the beast, nor would stop until commanded -by a second nod as curt as the first. For a long minute the two women -gazed steadily into each other’s eyes, at the end of which, with a -flicker of triumph, Leoncia observed the other’s eyes droop. But the -flicker was temporary, for Leoncia saw that the Lady was studying her -dress with haughty curiosity. She even reached out her slender, pallid -hand and felt the texture of the cloth and caressed it as only a woman -can. - -“Priest!” she summoned sharply. “This is the third day of the Sun in the -House of Manco. Long ago I told you something concerning this day. -Speak.” - -Writhing in excess of servility, the Sun Priest quavered: - -“That on this day strange events were to occur. They have occurred, O -Queen.” - -Already had the Queen forgotten. Still caressing the cloth of Leoncia’s -dress, her eyes were bent upon it in curious examination. - -“You are very fortunate,” the Queen said, at the same time motioning her -back to rejoin the others. “You are well loved of men. All is not clear, -yet does it seem that you are too well loved of men.” - -Her voice, mellow and low, tranquil as silver, modulated in exquisite -rhythms of sound, was almost as a distant temple bell calling believers -to worship or sad souls to quiet judgment. But to Leoncia it was not -given to appreciate the wonderful voice. Instead, only was she aware of -anger flaming up to her cheeks and burning in her pulse. - -“I have seen you before, and often,” the Queen went on. - -“Never!” Leoncia cried out. - -“Hush!” the Sun Priest hissed at her. - -“There,” the Queen said, pointing at the great golden bowl. “Before, and -often, have I seen you there. - -“You——also, there,” she addressed Henry. - -“And you,” she confirmed to Francis, although her great blue eyes opened -wider and she gazed at him long——too long to suit Leoncia, who knew the -stab of jealousy that only a woman can thrust into a woman’s heart. - -The Queen’s eyes glinted when they had moved on to rest on Torres. - -“And who are you, stranger, so strangely appareled, the helmet of a -knight upon your head, upon your feet the sandals of a slave?” - -“I am Da Vasco,” he answered stoutly. - -“The name has an ancient ring,” she smiled. - -“I am the ancient Da Vasco,” he pursued, advancing unsummoned. She -smiled at his temerity but did not stay him. “This is the helmet I wore -four hundred years ago when I led the ancestors of the Lost Souls into -this valley.” - -The Queen smiled quiet unbelief, as she quietly asked: - -“Then you were born four hundred years ago?” - -“Yes, and never. I was never born. I am Da Vasco. I have always been. My -home is in the sun.” - -Her delicately stenciled brows drew quizzically to interrogation, though -she said nothing. From a gold-wrought box beside her on the divan she -pinched what seemed a powder between a fragile and almost transparent -thumb and forefinger, and her thin beautiful lips curved to gentle -mockery as she casually tossed the powder into the great tripod. A sheen -of smoke arose and in a moment was lost to sight. - -“Look!” she commanded. - -And Torres, approaching the great bowl, gazed into it. What he saw, the -rest of his party never learned. But the Queen herself leaned forward -and gazing down from above, saw with him, her face a beautiful -advertisement of gentle and pitying mockery. And what Torres himself saw -was a bedroom and a birth in the second story of the Bocas del Toro -house he had inherited. Pitiful it was, with its last secrecy exposed, -as was the gently smiling pity in the Queen’s face. And, in that -flashing glimpse of magic vision, Torres saw confirmed about himself -what he had always guessed and suspected. - -“Would you see more,” the Queen softly mocked. “I have shown you the -beginning of you. Look now, and behold your ending.” - -But Torres, too deeply impressed by what he had already seen, shuddered -away in recoil. - -“Forgive me, Beautiful Woman,” he pleaded. “And let me pass. Forget, as -I shall hope ever to forget.” - -“It is gone,” she said, with a careless wave of her hand over the bowl. -“But I cannot forget. The record will persist always in my mind. But -you, O Man, so young of life, so ancient of helmet, have I beheld before -this day, there in my Mirror of the World. You have vexed me much of -late with your portending. Yet not with the helmet.” She smiled with -quiet wisdom. “Always, it seems to me, I saw a chamber of the dead, of -the long dead, upright on their unmoving legs and guarding through -eternity mysteries alien to their faith and race. And in that dolorous -company did it seem that I saw one who wore your ancient helmet.... -Shall I speak further?” - -“No, no,” Torres implored. - -She bowed and nodded him back. Next, her scrutiny centred on Francis, -whom she nodded forward. She stood up upon the dais as if to greet him, -and, as if troubled by the fact that she must gaze down on him, stepped -from the dais to the floor so that she might gaze up into his face as -she extended her hand. Hesitatingly he took her hand in his, then knew -not what next to do. Almost did it appear that she read his thought, for -she said: - -“Do it. I have never had it done to me before. I have never seen it -done, save in my dreams and in the visions shown me in my Mirror of the -World.” - -And Francis bent and kissed her hand. And, because she did not signify -to withdraw it, he continued to hold it, while, against his palm, he -felt the faint but steady pulse of her pink finger-tips. And so they -stood in pose, neither speaking, Francis embarrassed, the Queen sighing -faintly, while the sex anger of woman tore at Leoncia’s heart, until -Henry blurted out in gleeful English: - -“Do it again, Francis! She likes it!” - -The Sun Priest hissed silencing command at him. But the Queen, half -withdrawing her hand with a startle like a maiden’s, returned it as -deeply as before into Francis’ clasp, and addressed herself to Henry. - -“I, too, know the language you speak,” she admonished. “Yet am I -unashamed, I, who have never known a man, do admit that I like it. It is -the first kiss that I have ever had. Francis——for such your friend calls -you——obey your friend. I like it. I do like it. Once again kiss my -hand.” - -Francis obeyed, waited while her hand still lingered in his, and while -she, oblivious to all else, as if toying with some beautiful thought, -gazed lingeringly up into his eyes. By a visible effort she pulled -herself together, released his hand abruptly, gestured him back to the -others, and addressed the Sun Priest. - -“Well, priest,” she said, with a return of the sharpness in her voice, -“You have brought these captives here for a reason which I already know. -Yet would I hear you state it yourself.” - -“O Lady Who Dreams, shall we not kill these intruders as has ever been -our custom? The people are mystified and in doubt of my judgment, and -demand decision from you.” - -“And you would kill?” - -“Such is my judgment. I seek now your judgment that yours and mine may -be one.” - -She glanced over the faces of the four captives. For Torres, her -brooding expression portrayed only pity. To Leoncia she extended a -frown; to Henry, doubt. And upon Francis she gazed a full minute, her -face growing tender, at least to Leoncia’s angry observation. - -“Are any of you unmarried?” the Queen asked suddenly. “Nay,” she -anticipated them. “It is given me to know that you are all unmarried.” -She turned quickly to Leoncia. “Is it well,” she demanded, “that a woman -should have two husbands?” - -Both Henry and Francis could not refrain from smiling their amusement at -so absurdly irrelevant a question. But to Leoncia it was neither absurd -nor irrelevant, and in her cheeks arose the flush of anger again. This -was a woman, she knew, with whom she had to deal, and who was dealing -with her like a woman. - -“It is not well,” Leoncia answered, with clear, ringing voice. - -“It is very strange,” the Queen pondered aloud. “It is very strange. Yet -is it not fair. Since there are equal numbers of men and women in the -world, it cannot be fair for one woman to have two husbands, for, if so, -it means that another woman shall have no husband.” - -Another pinch of dust she tossed into the great bowl of gold. The sheen -of smoke arose and vanished as before. - -“The Mirror of the World will tell me, priest, what disposition shall be -made of our captives.” - -Just ere she leaned over to gaze into the bowl, a fresh thought -deflected her. With an embracing wave of arm she invited them all up to -the bowl. - -“We may all look,” she said. “I do not promise you we will see the same -visions of our dreams. Nor shall I know what you will have seen. Each -for himself will see and know.——You, too, priest.” - -They found the bowl, six feet in diameter that it was, half-full of some -unknown metal liquid. - -“It might be quicksilver, but it isn’t,” Henry whispered to Francis. “I -have never seen the like of any similar metal. It strikes me as hotly -molten.” - -“It is very cold,” the Queen corrected him in English. “Yet is it -fire.—You, Francis, feel the bowl outside.” - -He obeyed, laying his full palm unhesitatingly to the yellow outer -surface. - -“Colder than the atmosphere of the room,” he adjudged. - -“But look!” the Queen cried, tossing more powder upon the contents. “It -is fire that remains cold.” - -“It is the powder that smokes with the heat of its own containment,” -Torres blurted out, at the same time feeling into the bottom of his coat -pocket. He drew forth a pinch of crumbs of tobacco, match splinters, and -cloth-fluff. “This will not burn,” he challenged, inviting invitation by -extending the pinch of rubbish over the bowl as if to drop it in. - -The Queen nodded consent, and all saw the rubbish fall upon the liquid -metal surface. The particles made no indentation on that surface. Only -did they transform into smoke that sheened upward and was gone. No -remnant of ash remained. - -“Still is it cold,” said Torres, imitating Francis and feeling the -outside of the bowl. - -“Thrust your finger into the contents,” the Queen suggested to Torres. - -“No,” he said. - -“You are right,” she confirmed. “Had you done so, you would now be with -one finger less than the number with which you were born.” She tossed in -more powder. “Now shall each behold what he alone will behold.” - -And it was so. - -To Leoncia was it given to see an ocean separate her and Francis. To -Henry was it given to see the Queen and Francis married by so strange a -ceremony, that scarcely did he realise, until at the close, that it was -a wedding taking place. The Queen, from a flying gallery in a great -house, looked down into a magnificent drawing-room that Francis would -have recognized as builded by his father had her vision been his. And, -beside her, his arm about her, she saw Francis. Francis saw but one -thing, vastly perturbing, the face of Leoncia, immobile as death, with -thrust into it, squarely between the eyes, a slender-bladed dagger. Yet -he did not see any blood flowing from the wound of the dagger. Torres -glimpsed the beginning of what he knew must be his end, crossed himself, -and alone of all of them shrank back, refusing to see further. While the -Sun Priest saw the vision of his secret sin, the face and form of the -woman for whom he had betrayed the Worship of the Sun, and the face and -form of the maid of the village at the Long House. - -As all drew back by common consent when the visions faded, Leoncia -turned like a tigress, with flashing eyes, upon the Queen, crying: - -“Your mirror lies! Your Mirror of the World lies!” - -Francis and Henry, still under the heavy spell of what they had -themselves beheld, were startled and surprised by Leoncia’s outburst. -But the Queen, speaking softly, replied: - -“My Mirror of the World has never lied. I know not what you saw. But I -do know, whatever it was, that it is truth.” - -“You are a monster!” Leoncia cried on. “You are a vile witch that lies!” - -“You and I are women,” the Queen chided with sweet gentleness, “and may -not know of ourselves, being women. Men will decide whether or not I am -a witch that lies or a woman with a woman’s heart of love. In the -meanwhile, being women and therefore weak, let us be kind to each -other.” - -“——And now, Priest of the Sun, to judgment. You, as priest under the Sun -God, know more of the ancient rule and procedure than do I. You know -more than do I about myself and how I came to be here. You know that -always, mother and daughter, and by mother and daughter, has the tribe -maintained a Queen of Mystery, a Lady of Dreams. The time has come when -we must consider the future generations. The strangers have come, and -they are unmarried. This must be the wedding day decreed, if the -generations to come after of the tribe are to possess a Queen to dream -for them. It is well, and time and need and place are met. I have -dreamed to judgment. And the judgment is that I shall marry, of these -strangers, the stranger allotted to me before the foundations of the -world were laid. The test is this: If no one of these will marry, then -shall they die and their warm blood be offered up by you before the -altar of the Sun. If one will marry me, then all shall live, and Time -hereafter will register our futures.” - -The Sun Priest, trembling with anger, strove to protest, but she -commanded: - -“Silence, priest! By me only do you rule the people. At a word from me -to the people—well, you know. It is not any easy way to die.” - -She turned to the three men, saying: - -“And who will marry me?” - -They looked embarrassment and consternation at one another, but none -spoke. - -“I am a woman,” the Queen went on teasingly. “And therefore am I not -desirable to men? Is it that I am not young? Is it, as women go, that I -am not beautiful? Is it that men’s tastes are so strange that no man -cares to clasp the sweet of me in his arms and press his lips on mine as -good Francis there did on my hand?” - -She turned her eyes on Leoncia. - -“You be judge. You are a woman well loved of men. Am I not such a woman -as you, and shall I not be loved?” - -“You will ever be kinder to men than to women,” Leoncia -answered——cryptically as regarded the three men who heard, but clearly -to the woman’s brain of the Queen. “And as a woman,” Leoncia continued, -“you are strangely beautiful and luring; and there are men in this -world, many men, who could be made mad to clasp you in their arms. But I -warn you, Queen, that in this world are men, and men, and men.” - -Having heard and debated this, the Queen turned abruptly to the priest. - -“You have heard, priest. This day a man shall marry me. If no man -marries me, these three men shall be offered up on your altar. So shall -be offered up this woman, who, it would seem, would put shame upon me by -having me less than she.” - -Still she addressed the priest, although her message was for the others. - -“There are three men of them, one of whom, long cycles before he was -born, was destined to marry me. So, priest, I say, take the captives -away into some other apartment, and let them decide among themselves -which is the man.” - -“Since it has been so long destined,” Leoncia flamed forth, “then why -put it to the chance of their decision? You know the man. Why put it to -the risk? Name the man, Queen, and name him now.” - -“The man shall be selected in the way I have indicated,” the Queen -replied, as, at the same time, absently she tossed a pinch of powder -into the great bowl and absently glanced therein. “So now depart, and -let the inevitable choice be made.” - -They were already moving away out of the room, when a cry from the Queen -stopped them. - -“Wait!” she ordered. “Come, Francis. I have seen something that concerns -you. Come, gaze with me upon the Mirror of the World.” - -And while the others paused, Francis gazed with her upon the strange -liquid metal surface. He saw himself in the library of his New York -house, and he saw beside him the Lady Who Dreams, his arm around her. -Next, he saw her curiosity at sight of the stock-ticker. As he tried to -explain it to her, he glanced at the tape and read such disturbing -information thereon that he sprang to the nearest telephone and, as the -vision faded, saw himself calling up his broker. - -“What was it you saw?” Leoncia questioned, as they passed out. - -And Francis lied. He did not mention seeing the Lady Who Dreams in his -New York library. Instead, he replied: - -“It was a stock-ticker, and it showed a bear market on Wall Street -somersaulting into a panic. Now how did she know I was interested in -Wall Street and stock-tickers?” - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - -“Somebody’s got to marry that crazy woman,” Leoncia spoke up, as they -lolled upon the mats of the room to which the priest had taken them. -“Not only will he be a hero by saving our lives, but he will save his -own life as well. Now, Senor Torres, is your chance to save all our -lives and your own.” - -“Br-r-r!” Torres shivered. “I would not marry her for ten million gold. -She is too wise. She is terrible. She—how shall I say?—she, as you -Americans say, gets my goat. I am a brave man. But before her I am not -brave. The flesh of me melts in a sweat of fear. Not for less than ten -million would I dare to overcome my fear. Now Henry and Francis are -braver than I. Let one of them marry her.” - -“But I am engaged to marry Leoncia,” Henry spoke up promptly. -“Therefore, I cannot marry the Queen.” - -And their eyes centered on Francis, but, before he could reply, Leoncia -broke in. - -“It is not fair,” she said. “No one of you wants to marry her. The only -equitable way to settle it will be by drawing lots.” As she spoke, she -pulled three straws from the mat on which she sat and broke one off very -short. “The man who draws the short straw shall be the victim. You, -Senor Torres, draw first.” - -“Wedding bells for the short straw,” Henry grinned. - -Torres crossed himself, shivered, and drew. So patently long was the -straw, that he executed a series of dancing steps as he sang: - - “No wedding bells for me, - I’m as happy as can be ...” - -Francis drew next, and an equally long straw was his portion. To Henry -there was no choice. The remaining straw in Leoncia’s hand was the fatal -one. All tragedy was in his face as he looked instantly at Leoncia. And -she, observing, melted in pity, while Francis saw her pity and did some -rapid thinking. It was the way out. All the perplexity of the situation -could be thus easily solved. Great as was his love for Leoncia, greater -was his man’s loyalty to Henry. Francis did not hesitate. With a merry -slap of his hand on Henry’s shoulder, he cried: - -“Well, here’s the one unattached bachelor who isn’t afraid of matrimony. -I’ll marry her.” - -Henry’s relief was as if he had been reprieved from impending death. His -hand shot out to Francis’ hand, and, while they clasped, their eyes -gazed squarely into each other’s as only decent, honest men’s may gaze. -Nor did either see the dismay registered in Leoncia’s face at this -unexpected denouement. The Lady Who Dreams had been right. Leoncia, as a -woman, was unfair, loving two men and denying the Lady her fair share of -men. - -But any discussion that might have taken place, was prevented by the -little maid of the village, who entered with women to serve them the -midday meal. It was Torres’ sharp eyes that first lighted upon the -string of gems about the maid’s neck. Rubies they were, and magnificent. - -“The Lady Who Dreams just gave them to me,” the maid said, pleased with -their pleasure in her new possession. - -“Has she any more?” Torres asked. - -“Of course,” was the reply. “Only just now did she show me a great chest -of them. And they were all kinds, and much larger; but they were not -strung. They were like so much shelled corn.” - -While the others ate and talked, Torres nervously smoked a cigarette. -After that, he arose and claimed a passing indisposition that prevented -him from eating. - -“Listen,” he quoth impressively. “I speak better Spanish than either of -you two Morgans. Also, I know, I am confident, the Spanish woman -character better. To show you my heart’s in the right place, I’ll go in -to her now and see if I can talk her out of this matrimonial -proposition.” - - * * * * * - -One of the spearmen barred Torres’ way, but, after going within, -returned and motioned him to enter. The Queen, reclined on the divan, -nodded him to her graciously. - -“You do not eat?” she queried solicitously; and added, after he had -reaffirmed his loss of appetite, “Then will you drink?” - -Torres’ eyes sparkled. Between the excitement he had gone through for -the past several days, and the new adventure he was resolved upon, he -knew not how, to achieve, he felt the important need of a drink. The -Queen clapped her hands, and issued commands to the waiting woman who -responded. - -“It is very ancient, centuries old, as you will recognize, Da Vasco, who -brought it here yourself four centuries ago,” she said, as a man carried -in and broached a small wooden keg. - -About the age of the keg there could be no doubt, and Torres, knowing -that it had crossed the Western Ocean twelve generations before, felt -his throat tickle with desire to taste its contents. The drink poured by -the waiting woman was a big one, yet was Torres startled by the mildness -of it. But quickly the magic of four-centuries-old spirits began to -course through his veins and set the maggots crawling in his brain. - -The Queen bade him sit on the edge of the divan at her feet, where she -could observe him, and asked: - -“You came unsummoned. What is it you have to tell me or ask of me?” - -“I am the one selected,” he replied, twisting his moustache and striving -to look the enticingness of a male man on love adventure bent. - -“Strange,” she said. “I saw not your face in the Mirror of the World. -There is ... some mistake, eh?” - -“A mistake,” he acknowledged readily, reading certain knowledge in her -eyes. “It was the drink. There is magic in it that made me speak the -message of my heart to you, I want you so.” - -Again, with laughing eyes, she summoned the waiting woman and had his -pottery mug replenished. - -“A second mistake, perhaps will now result, eh?” she teased, when he had -downed the drink. - -“No, O Queen,” he replied. “Now all is clarity. My true heart I can -master. Francis Morgan, the one who kissed your hand, is the man -selected to be your husband.” - -“It is true,” she said solemnly. “His was the face I saw, and knew from -the first.” - -Thus encouraged, Torres continued. - -“I am his friend, his very good best friend. You, who know all things, -know the custom of the marriage dowry. He has sent me, his best friend, -to inquire into and examine the dowry of his bride. You must know that -he is among the richest of men in his own country, where men are very -rich.” - -So suddenly did she arise on the divan that Torres cringed and half -shrank down, in his panic expectance of a knife-blade between his -shoulders. Instead, the Queen walked swiftly, or, rather, glided, to the -doorway to an inner apartment. - -“Come!” she summoned imperiously. - -Once inside, at the first glance around, Torres knew the room for what -it was, her sleeping chamber. But his eyes had little space for such -details. Lifting the lid of a heavy chest of ironwood, brass-bound, she -motioned him to look in. He obeyed, and saw the amazement of the world. -The little maid had spoken true. Like so much shelled corn, the chest -was filled with an incalculable treasure of gems——diamonds, rubies, -emeralds, sapphires, the most precious, the purest and largest of their -kinds. - -“Thrust in your arms to the shoulders,” she said, “and make sure that -these baubles be real and of the adamant of flint, rather than illusions -and reflections of unreality dreamed real in a dream. Thus may you make -certain report to your very rich friend who is to marry me.” - -And Torres, the madness of the ancient drink like fire in his brain, did -as he was told. - -“These trifles of glass are such an astonishment?” she plagued. “Your -eyes are as if they were witnessing great wonders.” - -“I never dreamed in all the world there was such a treasure,” he -muttered in his drunkenness. - -“They are beyond price?” - -“They are beyond price.” - -“They are beyond the value of valor, and love, and honor?” - -“They are beyond all things. They are a madness.” - -“Can a woman’s or a man’s true love be purchased by them?” - -“They can purchase all the world.” - -“Come,” the Queen said. “You are a man. You have held women in your -arms. Will they purchase women?” - -“Since the beginning of time women have been bought and sold for them, -and for them women have sold themselves.” - -“Will they buy me the heart of your good friend Francis?” - -For the first time Torres looked at her, and nodded and muttered, his -eyes swimming with drink and wild-eyed with sight of such array of gems. - -“Will good Francis so value them?” - -Torres nodded speechlessly. - -“Do all persons so value them?” - -Again he nodded emphatically. - -She began to laugh in silvery derision. Bending, at haphazard she -clutched a priceless handful of the pretties. - -“Come,” she commanded. “I will show you how I value them.” - -She led him across the room and out on a platform that extended around -three sides of a space of water, the fourth side being the perpendicular -cliff. At the base of the cliff the water formed a whirlpool that -advertised the drainage exit for the lake which Torres had heard the -Morgans speculate about. - -With another silvery tease of laughter, the Queen tossed the handful of -priceless gems into the heart of the whirlpool. - -“Thus I value them,” she said. - -Torres was aghast, and, for the nonce, well-nigh sobered by such -wantonness. - -“And they never come back,” she laughed on. “Nothing ever comes back. -Look!” - -She flung in a handful of flowers that raced around and around the whirl -and quickly sucked down from sight in the center of it. - -“If nothing comes back, where does everything go?” Torres asked thickly. - -The Queen shrugged her shoulders, although he knew that she knew the -secret of the waters. - -“More than one man has gone that way,” she said dreamily. “No one of -them has ever returned. My mother went that way, after she was dead. I -was a girl then.” She roused. “But you, helmeted one, go now. Make -report to your master——your friend, I mean. Tell him what I possess for -dowry. And, if he be half as mad as you about the bits of glass, swiftly -will his arms surround me. I shall remain here and in dreams await his -coming. The play of the water fascinates me.” - -Dismissed, Torres entered the sleeping chamber, crept back to steal a -glimpse of the Queen, and saw her sunk down on the platform, head on -hand, and gazing into the whirlpool. Swiftly he made his way to the -chest, lifted the lid, and stowed a scooping handful into his trousers’ -pocket. Ere he could scoop a second handful, the mocking laughter of the -Queen was at his back. - -Fear and rage mastered him to such extent, that he sprang toward her, -and pursuing her out upon the platform, was only prevented from seizing -her by the dagger she threatened him with. - -“Thief,” she said quietly. “Without honor are you. And the way of all -thieves in this valley is death. I shall summon my spearmen and have you -thrown into the whirling water.” - -And his extremity gave Torres cunning. Glancing apprehensively at the -water that threatened him, he ejaculated a cry of horror as if at what -strange thing he had seen, sank down on one knee, and buried his -convulsed face of simulated fear in his hands. The Queen looked sidewise -to see what he had seen. Which was his moment. He rose in the air upon -her like a leaping tiger, clutching her wrists and wresting the dagger -from her. - -He wiped the sweat from his face and trembled while he slowly recovered -himself. Meanwhile she gazed upon him curiously, without fear. - -“You are a woman of evil,” he snarled at her, still shaking with rage, -“a witch that traffics with the powers of darkness and all devilish -things. Yet are you woman, born of woman, and therefore mortal. The -weakness of mortality and of woman is yours, wherefore I give you now -your choice of two things. Either you shall be thrown into the whirl of -water and perish, or ...” - -“Or?” she prompted. - -“Or....” He paused, licked his dry lips, and burst forth. “No! By the -Mother of God, I am not afraid. Or marry me this day, which is the other -choice.” - -“You would marry me for me? Or for the treasure?” - -“For the treasure,” he admitted brazenly. - -“But it is written in the Book of Life that I shall marry Francis,” she -objected. - -“Then will we rewrite that page in the Book of Life.” - -“As if it could be done!” she laughed. - -“Then will I prove your mortality there in the whirl, whither I shall -fling you as you flung the flowers.” - -Truly intrepid Torres was for the time—intrepid because of the ancient -drink that burned in his blood and brain, and because he was master of -the situation. Also, like a true Latin-American, he loved a scene -wherein he could strut and elocute. - -Yet she startled him by emitting a hiss similar to the Latin way of -calling a servitor. He regarded her suspiciously, glanced at the doorway -to the sleeping chamber, then returned his gaze to her. - -Like a ghost, seeing it only vaguely out of the corner of his eye, the -great white hound erupted through the doorway. Startled again, Torres -involuntarily stepped to the side. But his foot failed to come to rest -on the emptiness of air it encountered, and the weight of his body -toppled him down off the platform into the water. Even as he fell and -screamed his despair, he saw the hound in mid-air leaping after him. - -Swimmer that he was, Torres was like a straw in the grip of the current; -and the Lady Who Dreams, gazing down upon him fascinated from the edge -of the platform, saw him disappear, and the hound after him, into the -heart of the whirlpool from which there was no return. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - -Long the Lady Who Dreams gazed down at the playing waters. At last, with -a sighed “My poor dog,” she arose. The passing of Torres had meant -nothing to her. Accustomed from girlhood to exercise the high powers of -life and death over her semi-savage and degenerate people, human life, -per se, had no sacredness to her. If life were good and lovely, then, -naturally, it was the right thing to let it live. But if life were evil, -ugly, and dangerous to other lives, then the thing was to let it die or -make it die. Thus, to her, Torres had been an episode——unpleasant, but -quickly over. But it was too bad about the dog. - -Clapping her hands loudly as she entered her chamber, to summon one of -her women, she made sure that the lid of the jewel chest was raised. To -the woman she gave a command, and herself returned to the platform, from -where she could look into the room unobserved. - -A few minutes later, guided by the woman, Francis entered the chamber -and was left alone. He was not in a happy mood. Fine as had been his -giving up of Leoncia, he got no pleasure from the deed. Nor was there -any pleasure in looking forward to marrying the strange lady who ruled -over the Lost Souls and resided in this weird lake-dwelling. Unlike -Torres, however, she did not arouse in him fear or animosity. Quite to -the contrary, Francis’ feeling toward her was largely that of pity. He -could not help but be impressed by the tragic pathos of the ripe and -lovely woman desperately seeking love and a mate, despite her imperious -and cavalier methods. - -At a glance he recognized the room for what it was, and idly wondered if -he were already considered the bridegroom, sans discussion, sans -acquiescence, sans ceremony. In his brown study, the chest scarcely -caught his attention. The Queen, watching, saw him evidently waiting for -her, and, after a few minutes, walk over to the chest. He gathered up a -handful of the gems, dropped them one by one carelessly back as if they -had been so many marbles, and turned and strolled over to examine the -leopard skins on her couch. Next, he sat down upon it, oblivious equally -of couch or treasure. All of which was provocative of such delight to -the Queen that she could no longer with-strain herself to mere spying. -Entering the room and greeting him, she laughed: - -“Was Senor Torres a liar?” - -“_Was?_” Francis queried, for the need of saying something, as he arose -before her. - -“He no longer is,” she assured him. “Which is neither here nor there,” -she hastened on as Francis began to betray interest in the matter of -Torres’ end. “He is gone, and it is well that he is gone, for he can -never come back. But he did lie, didn’t he?” - -“Undoubtedly,” Francis replied. “He is a confounded liar.” - -He could not help noticing the way her face fell when he so heartily -agreed with her concerning Torres’ veracity. - -“What did he say?” Francis questioned. - -“That he was the one selected to marry me.” - -“A liar,” Francis commented dryly. - -“Next he said that you were the selected one—which was also a lie,” her -voice trailed off. - -Francis shook his head. - -The involuntary cry of joy the Queen uttered touched his heart to such -tenderness of pity that almost did he put his arms around her to soothe -her. She waited for him to speak. - -“I am the one to marry you,” he went on steadily. “You are very -beautiful. When shall we be married?” - -The wild joy in her face was such that he swore to himself that never -would he willingly mar that face with marks of sorrow. She might be -ruler over the Lost Souls, with the wealth of Ind and with supernatural -powers of mirror-gazing; but most poignantly she appealed to him as a -lonely and naïve woman, overspilling of love and totally unversed in -love. - -“And I shall tell you of another lie this Torres animal told to me,” she -burst forth exultantly. “He told me that you were rich, and that, before -you married me, you desired to know what wealth was mine. He told me you -had sent him to inquire into what riches I possessed. This I know was a -lie. You are not marrying me for that!”—with a scornful gesture at the -jewel chest. - -Francis shook his head. - -“You are marrying me for myself,” she rushed on in triumph. - -“For yourself,” Francis could not help but lie. - -And then he beheld an amazing thing. The Queen, this Queen who was the -sheerest autocrat, who said come here and go there, who dismissed the -death of Torres with its mere announcement, and who selected her royal -spouse without so much as consulting his prenuptial wishes, this Queen -began to blush. Up her neck, flooding her face to her ears and forehead, -welled the pink tide of maidenly modesty and embarrassment. And such -sight of faltering made Francis likewise falter. He knew not what to do, -and felt a warmth of blood rising under the sun-tan of his own face. -Never, he thought, had there been a man-and-woman situation like it in -all the history of men and women. The mutual embarrassment of the pair -of them was appalling, and to save his life he could not have summoned a -jot of initiative. Thus, the Queen was compelled to speak first. - -“And now,” she said, blushing still more furiously, “you must make love -to me.” - -Francis strove to speak, but his lips were so dry that he licked them -and succeeded only in stammering incoherently. - -“I never have been loved,” the Queen continued bravely. “The affairs of -my people are not love. My people are animals without reason. But we, -you and I, are man and woman. There must be wooing, and tenderness——that -much I have learned from my Mirror of the World. But I am unskilled. I -know not how. But you, from out of the great world, must surely know. I -wait. You must love me.” - -She sank down upon the couch, drawing Francis beside her, and true to -her word, proceeded to wait. While he, bidden to love at command, was -paralyzed by the preposterous impossibility of so obeying. - -“Am I not beautiful?” the Queen queried after another pause. “Are not -your arms as mad to be about me as I am mad to have them about me? Never -have a man’s lips touched my lips. What is a kiss like——on the lips, I -mean? Your lips on my hand were ecstasy. You kissed then, not alone my -hand, but my soul. My heart was there, throbbing against the press of -your lips. Did you not feel it?” - - * * * * * - -“And so,” she was saying, half an hour later, as they sat on the couch -hand in hand, “I have told you the little I know of myself. I do not -know the past, except what I have been told of it. The present I see -clearly in my Mirror of the World. The future I can likewise see, but -vaguely; nor can I always understand what I see. I was born here. So was -my mother, and her mother. How it chanced is that always into the life -of each queen came a lover. Sometimes, as you, they came here. My -mother’s mother, so it was told me, left the valley to find her lover -and was gone a long time——for years. So did my mother go forth. The -secret way is known to me, where the long dead conquistadores guard the -Maya mysteries, and where Da Vasco himself stands whose helmet this -Torres animal had the impudence to steal and claim for his own. Had you -not come, I should have been compelled to go forth and find you, for you -were my appointed one and had to be.” - -A woman entered, followed by a spearman, and Francis could scarce make -his way through the quaint antiquated Spanish of the conversation that -ensued. In commingled anger and joy, the Queen epitomized it to him. - -“We are to depart now to the Long House for our wedding. The Priest of -the Sun is stubborn, I know not why, save that he has been balked of the -blood of all of you on his altar. He is very blood-thirsty. He is the -Sun Priest, but he is possessed of little reason. I have report that he -is striving to turn the people against our wedding——the dog!” She -clinched her hands, her face set, and her eyes blazed with royal fury. -“He shall marry us, by the ancient custom, before the Long House, at the -Altar of the Sun.” - - * * * * * - -“It’s not too late, Francis, to change your mind,” Henry urged. -“Besides, it is not fair. The short straw was mine. Am I not right, -Leoncia?” - -Leoncia could not reply. They stood in a group, at the forefront of the -assembled Lost Souls, before the altar. Inside the Long House the Queen -and the Sun Priest were closeted. - -“You wouldn’t want to see Henry marry her, would you, Leoncia?” Francis -argued. - -“Nor you, either,” Leoncia countered. “Torres is the only one I’d like -to have seen marry her. I don’t like her. I would not care to see any -friend of mine her husband.” - -“You’re almost jealous,” commented Henry. “Just the same, Francis -doesn’t seem so very cast down over his fate.” - -“She’s not at all bad,” Francis retorted. “And I can accept my fate with -dignity, if not with equanimity. And I’ll tell you something else, -Henry, now that you are harping on this strain: she wouldn’t marry you -if you asked her.” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” Henry began. - -“Then ask her,” was the challenge. “Here she comes now. Look at her -eyes. There’s trouble brewing. And the priest’s black as thunder. You -just propose to her and see what chance you’ve got while I’m around.” - -Henry nodded his head stubbornly. - -“I will——but not to show you what kind of a woman-conqueror I am, but -for the sake of fair play. I wasn’t playing the game when I accepted -your sacrifice of yourself, but I am going to play the game now.” - -Before they could prevent him, he had thrust his way to the Queen, -shouldered in between her and the priest, and began to speak earnestly. -And the Queen laughed as she listened. But her laughter was not for -Henry. With shining triumph she laughed across at Leoncia. - -Not many moments were required to say no to Henry’s persuasions, -whereupon the Queen joined Leoncia and Francis, the priest tagging at -her heels, and Henry, following more slowly, trying to conceal the -gladness that was his at being rejected. - -“What do you think,” the Queen addressed Leoncia directly. “Good Henry -has just asked me to marry him, which makes the fourth this day. Am I -not well loved? Have you ever had four lovers, all desiring to marry you -on your wedding day?” - -“Four!” Francis exclaimed. - -The Queen looked at him tenderly. - -“Yourself, and Henry whom I have just declined. And, before either of -you, this day, the insolent Torres; and, just now, in the Long House, -the priest here.” Wrath began to fire her eyes and cheeks at the -recollection. “This Priest of the Sun, this priest long since renegade -to his vows, this man who is only half a man, wanted me to marry him! -The dog! The beast! And he had the insolence to say, at the end, that I -should not marry Francis. Come. I will show him.” - -She nodded her own private spearmen up about the group, and with her -eyes directed two of them behind the priest to include him. At sight of -this, murmurs began to arise in the crowd. - -“Proceed, priest,” the Queen commanded harshly. “Else will my men kill -you now.” - -He turned sharply about, as if to appeal to the people, but the speech -that trembled to his lips died unuttered at sight of the spear-points at -his breast. He bowed to the inevitable, and led the way close to the -altar, placing the Queen and Francis facing him, while he stood above on -the platform of the altar, looking at them and over them at the Lost -Souls. - -“I am the Priest of the Sun,” he began. “My vows are holy. As the vowed -priest I am to marry this woman, the Lady Who Dreams, to this stranger -and intruder, whose blood is already forfeit to our altar. My vows are -holy. I cannot be false to them. I refuse to marry this woman to this -man. In the name of the Sun God I refuse to perform this ceremony——” - -“Then shall you die, priest, here and now,” the Queen hissed at him, -nodding the near spearmen to lift their spears against him, and nodding -the other spearmen to face the murmuring and semi-mutinous Lost Souls. - -Followed a pregnant pause. For less than a minute, but for nearly a -minute, no word was uttered, no thought was betrayed by a restless -movement. All stood, like so many statues; and all gazed upon the priest -against whose heart the poised spears rested. - -He, whose blood of heart and life was nearest at stake in the issue, was -the first to act. He gave in. Calmly he turned his back to the -threatening spears, knelt, and, in archaic Spanish, prayed an invocation -of fruitfulness to the Sun. Returning to the Queen and Francis, with a -gesture he made them fully bow and almost half kneel before him. As he -touched their hands with his finger-tips he could not forbear the -involuntary scowl that convulsed his features. - -As the couple arose, at his indication, he broke a small corn-cake in -two, handing a half to each. - -“The Eucharist,” Henry whispered to Leoncia, as the pair crumbled and -ate their portions of cake. - -“The Roman Catholic worship Da Vasco must have brought in with him, -twisted about until it is now the marriage ceremony,” she whispered back -comprehension, although, at sight of Francis thus being lost to her, she -was holding herself tightly for control, her lips bloodless and -stretched to thinness, her nails hurting into her palms. - -From the altar the priest took and presented to the Queen a tiny dagger -and a tiny golden cup. She spoke to Francis, who rolled up his sleeve -and presented to her his bared left forearm. About to scarify his flesh, -she paused, considered till all could see her visibly think, and, -instead of breaking his skin, she touched the dagger point carefully to -her tongue. - -And then arose rage. At the taste of the blade she threw the weapon from -her, half sprang at the priest, half gave command to her spearmen for -the death of him, and shook and trembled in the violence of her effort -for self-possession. Following with her eyes the flight of the dagger to -assure herself that its poisoned point should not strike the flesh of -another and wreak its evilness upon it, she drew from the breast-fold of -her dress another tiny dagger. This, too, she tested with her tongue, -ere she broke Francis’ skin with the point of it and caught in the cup -of gold the several red blood-drops that exuded from the incision. -Francis repeated the same for her and on her, whereupon, under her -flashing eyes, the priest took the cup and offered the commingled blood -upon the altar. - -Came a pause. The Queen frowned. - -“If blood is to be shed this day on the altar of the Sun God——” she -began threateningly. - -And the priest, as if recollecting what he was loath to do, turned to -the people and made solemn pronouncement that the twain were man and -wife. The Queen turned to Francis with glowing invitation to his arms. -As he folded her to him and kissed her eager lips, Leoncia gasped and -leaned closely to Henry for support. Nor did Francis fail to observe and -understand her passing indisposition, although when the flush-faced -Queen next sparkled triumph at her sister woman, Leoncia was to all -appearance proudly indifferent. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - -Two thoughts flickered in Torres’ mind as he was sucked down. The first -was of the great white hound which had leaped after him. The second was -that the Mirror of the World told lies. That this was his end he was -certain, yet the little he had dared permit himself to glimpse in the -Mirror had given no hint of an end anything like this. - -A good swimmer, as he was engulfed and sucked on in rapid, fluid -darkness, he knew fear that he might have his brains knocked out by the -stone walls or roof of the subterranean passage through which he was -being swept. But the freak of the currents was such that not once did he -collide with any part of his anatomy. Sometimes he was aware of being -banked against water-cushions that tokened the imminence of a wall or -boulder, at which times he shrank as it were into smaller compass, like -a sea-turtle drawing in its head before the onslaught of sharks. - -Less than a minute, as he measured the passage of time by the holding of -his breath, elapsed, ere, in an easier-flowing stream, his head emerged -above the surface and he refreshed his lungs with great inhalations of -cool air. Instead of swimming, he contented himself with keeping afloat, -and with wondering what had happened to the hound and with what next -excitement would vex his underground adventure. - -Soon he glimpsed light ahead, the dim but unmistakable light of day; -and, as the way grew brighter, he turned his face back and saw what made -him proceed to swim with a speed-stroke. What he saw was the hound, -swimming high, with the teeth of its huge jaws gleaming in the -increasing light. Under the source of the light, he saw a shelving bank -and climbed out. His first thought, which he half carried out, was to -reach into his pocket for the gems he had stolen from the Queen’s chest. -But a reverberant barking that grew to thunder in the cavern reminded -him of his fanged pursuer, and he drew forth the Queen’s dagger instead. - -Again two thoughts divided his judgment for action. Should he try to -kill the swimming brute ere it landed? Or should he retreat up the rocks -toward the light on the chance that the stream might carry the hound -past him? His judgment settled on the second course of action, and he -fled upward along a narrow ledge. But the dog landed and followed with -such four-footed certainty of speed that it swiftly overtook him. Torres -turned at bay on the cramped footing, crouched, and brandished the -dagger against the brute’s leap. - -But the hound did not leap. Instead, playfully, with jaws widespread of -laughter, it sat down and extended its right paw in greeting. As he took -the paw in his hand and shook it, Torres almost collapsed in the -revulsion of relief. He laughed with exuberant shrillness that -advertised semi-hysteria, and continued to pump the hound’s leg up and -down, while the hound, with wide jaws and gentle eyes, laughed as -exuberantly back. - -Pursuing the shelf, the hound contentedly at heel and occasionally -sniffing his calves, Torres found that the narrow track, paralleling the -river, after an ascent descended to it again. And then Torres saw two -things, one that made him pause and shudder, and one that made his heart -beat high with hope. The first was the underground river. Rushing -straight at the wall of rock, it plunged into it in a chaos of foam and -turbulence, with stiffly serrated and spitefully spitting waves that -advertised its swiftness and momentum. The second was an opening to one -side, through which streamed white daylight. Possibly fifteen feet in -diameter was this opening, but across it was stretched a spider web more -monstrous than any product of a madman’s fancy. Most ominous of all was -the debris of bones that lay beneath. The threads of the web were of -silver and of the thickness of a lead pencil. He shuddered as he touched -a thread with his hand. It clung to his flesh like glue, and only by an -effort that agitated the entire web did he succeed in freeing his hand. -Upon his clothes and upon the coat of the dog he rubbed off the -stickiness from his skin. - -Between two of the lower guys of the great web he saw that there was -space for him to crawl through the opening to the day; but, ere he -attempted it, caution led him to test the opening by helping and shoving -the hound ahead of him. The white beast crawled and scrambled out of -sight, and Torres was about to follow when it returned. Such was the -panic haste of its return that it collided with him and both fell. But -the man managed to save himself by clinging with his hands to the rocks, -while the four-footed brute, not able so to check itself, fell into the -churning water. Even as Torres reached a hand out to try to save it, the -dog was carried under the rock. - -Long Torres debated. That farther subterranean plunge of the river was -dreadful to contemplate. Above was the open way to the day, and the life -of him yearned towards the day as a bee or a flower toward the sun. Yet -what had the hound encountered to drive it back in such precipitate -retreat? As he pondered, he became aware that his hand was resting on a -rounded surface. He picked the object up, and gazed into the eyeless, -noseless features of a human skull. His frightened glances played over -the carpet of bones, and, beyond all doubt, he made out the ribs and -spinal columns and thigh bones of what had once been men. This inclined -him toward the water as the way out, but at sight of the foaming madness -of it plunging through solid rock he recoiled. - -Drawing the Queen’s dagger, he crawled up between the web-guys with -infinite carefulness, saw what the hound had seen, and came back in such -vertigo of retreat that he, too, fell into the water, and, with but time -to fill his lungs with air, was drawn into the opening and into -darkness. - - * * * * * - -In the meanwhile, back at the lake dwelling of the Queen, events no less -portentous were occurring with no less equal rapidity. Just returned -from the ceremony at the Long House, the wedding party was in the action -of seating itself for what might be called the wedding breakfast, when -an arrow, penetrating an interstice in the bamboo wall, flashed between -the Queen and Francis and transfixed the opposite wall, where its -feathered shaft vibrated from the violence of its suddenly arrested -flight. A rush to the windows looking out upon the narrow bridge, showed -Henry and Francis the gravity of the situation. Even as they looked, -they saw the Queen’s spearman who guarded the approach to the bridge, -midway across it in flight, falling into the water with the shaft of an -arrow vibrating out of his back in similar fashion to the one in the -wall of the room. Beyond the bridge, on the shore, headed by their -priest and backed by their women and children, all the male Lost Souls -were arching the air full with feathered bolts from their bows. - -A spearman of the Queen tottered into the apartment, his limbs spreading -vainly to support him, his eyes glazing, his lips beating a soundless -message which his fading life could not utter, as he fell prone, his -back bristling with arrow shafts like a porcupine. Henry sprang to the -door that gave entrance from the bridge, and, with his automatic, swept -it clear of the charging Lost Souls who could advance only in single -file and who fell as they advanced before his fire. - -The siege of the frail house was brief. Though Francis, protected by -Henry’s automatic, destroyed the bridge, by no method could the besieged -put out the blazing thatch of roof ignited in a score of places by the -fire-arrows discharged under the Sun Priest’s directions. - -“There is but one way to escape,” the Queen panted, on the platform -overlooking the whirl of waters, as she clasped one hand of Francis in -hers and threatened to precipitate herself clingingly into his arms. “It -wins to the world.” She pointed to the sucking heart of the whirlpool. -“No one has ever returned from that. In my Mirror I have beheld them -pass, dead always, and out to the wider world. Except for Torres, I have -never seen the living go. Only the dead. And they never returned. Nor -has Torres returned.” - -All eyes looked to all eyes at sight of the dreadfulness of the way. - -“There is no other way?” Henry demanded, as he drew Leoncia close to -him. - -The Queen shook her head. About them already burning portions of the -thatch were falling, while their ears were deafened by the blood-lust -chantings of the Lost Souls on the lake-shore. The Queen disengaged her -hand from Francis’, with the evident intention of dashing into her -sleeping room, then caught his hand and led him in. As he stood -wonderingly beside her, she slammed down the lid on the chest of jewels -and fastened it. Next, she kicked aside the floor matting and lifted a -trap door that opened down to the water. At her indication, Francis -dragged over the chest and dropped it through. - -“Even the Sun Priest does not know that hiding place,” she whispered, -ere she caught his hand again, and, running, led him back to the others -on the platform. - -“It is now time to depart from this place,” she announced. - -“Hold me in your arms, good Francis, husband of mine, and lift me and -leap with me,” she commanded. “We will lead the way.” - -And so they leapt. As the roof was crashing down in a wrath of fire and -flying embers, Henry caught Leoncia to him, and sprang after into the -whirl of waters wherein Francis and the Queen had already disappeared. - - * * * * * - -Like Torres, the four fugitives escaped injury against the rocks and -were borne onward by the underground river to the daylight opening where -the great spider-web guarded the way. Henry had an easier time of it, -for Leoncia knew how to swim. But Francis’ swimming prowess enabled him -to keep the Queen up. She obeyed him implicitly, floating low in the -water, nor clutched at his arms nor acted as a drag on him in any way. -At the ledge, all four drew out of the water and rested. The two women -devoted themselves to wringing out their hair, which had been flung -adrift all about them by the swirling currents. - -“It is not the first mountain I have been in the heart of with you two,” -Leoncia laughed to the Morgans, although more than for them was her -speech intended for the Queen. - -“It is the first time I have been in the heart of a mountain with my -husband,” the Queen laughed back, and the barb of her dart sank deep -into Leoncia. - -“Seems as though your wife, Francis, and my wife-to-be, aren’t going to -hit it off too well together,” Henry said, with the sharpness of censure -that man is wont to employ to conceal the embarrassment caused by his -womankind. - -And, as inevitable result of such male men’s ways, all that Henry gained -was a silence more awkward and more embarrassing. The two women almost -enjoyed the situation. Francis cudgeled his brains vainly for some -remark that would ameliorate matters; while Henry, in desperation, arose -suddenly with the observation that he was going to “explore a bit,” and -invited, by his hand out to help her to her feet, the Queen to accompany -him. Francis and Leoncia sat on for a moment in stubborn silence. He was -the first to break it. - -“For two cents I’d give you a thorough shaking, Leoncia.” - -“And what have I done now?” she countered. - -“As if you didn’t know. You’ve been behaving abominably.” - -“It is you who have behaved abominably,” she half-sobbed, in spite of -her determination to betray no such feminine signs of weakness. “Who -asked you to marry her? You did not draw the short straw. Yet you must -volunteer, must rush in where even angels would fear to tread? Did I ask -you to? Almost did my heart stop beating when I heard you tell Henry you -would marry her. I thought I was going to faint. You had not even -consulted me; yet it was on my suggestion, in order to save you from -her, that the straws were drawn——yes, and I am not too little shameless -to admit that it was because I wanted to save you for myself. Henry does -not love me as you led me to believe you loved me. I never loved Henry -as I loved you, as I do love you even now, God forgive me.” - -Francis was swept beyond himself. He caught her and pressed her to him -in a crushing embrace. - -“And on your very wedding day,” she gasped reproachfully in the midmost -of his embrace. - -His arm died away from about her. - -“And this from you, Leoncia, at such a moment,” he murmured sadly. - -“And why not?” she flared. “You loved me. You gave me to understand, -beyond all chance of misunderstanding, that you loved me; yet here, -to-day, you went out of your way, went eagerly and gladly, and married -yourself to the first woman with a white skin who presented herself.” - -“You are jealous,” he charged, and knew a heart-throb of joy as she -nodded. “And I grant you are jealous; but at the same time, exercising -the woman’s prerogative of lying, you are lying now. What I did, was not -done eagerly nor gladly. I did it for your sake and my sake——or for -Henry’s sake, rather. Thank God, I have a man’s honor still left to me!” - -“Man’s honour does not always satisfy woman,” she replied. - -“Would you prefer me dishonorable?” he was swift on the uptake. - -“I am only a woman who loves,” she pleaded. - -“You are a stinging, female wasp,” he raged, “and you are not fair.” - -“Is any woman fair when she loves?” she made the great confession and -acknowledgment. “Men may succeed in living in their heads of honor; but -know, and as a humble woman I humbly state my womanhood, that woman -lives only in her heart of love.” - -“Perhaps you are right. Honor, like arithmetic, can be reasoned and -calculated. Which leaves a woman no morality, but only ...” - -“Only moods,” Leoncia completed abjectly for him. - -Calls from Henry and the Queen put an end to the conversation, for -Leoncia and Francis quickly joined the others in gazing at the great -web. - -“Did you ever see so monstrous a web!” Leoncia exclaimed. - -“I’d like to see the monster that made it,” said Henry. - -“And I’d rather see than be it,” Francis paraphrased from the “Purple -Cow.” - -“It is our good fortune that we do not have to go that way,” the Queen -said. - -All looked inquiry at her, and she pointed down to the stream. - -“That is the way,” she said. “I know it. Often and often, in my Mirror -of the World, have I seen the way. When my mother died and was buried in -the whirlpool, I followed her body in the Mirror, and I saw it come to -this place and go by this place still in the water.” - -“But she was dead,” Leoncia objected quickly. - -The rivalry between them fanned instantly. - -“One of my spearmen,” the Queen went on quietly, “a handsome youth, -alas, dared to look at me as a lover. He was flung in alive. I watched -him, too, in the Mirror. When he came to this place he climbed out. I -saw him crawl under the web to the day, and I saw him retreat backward -from the day and throw himself into the stream.” - -“Another dead one,” Henry commented grimly. - -“No; for I followed him on in the Mirror, and though all was darkness -for a time and I could see nothing, in the end, and shortly, under the -sun he emerged into the bosom of a large river, and swam to the shore, -and climbed the bank——it was the left hand bank as I remember well——and -disappeared among large trees such as do not grow in the Valley of the -Lost Souls.” - -But, like Torres, the rest of them recoiled from thought of the dark -plunge through the living rock. - -“These are the bones of animals and of men,” the Queen warned, “who were -daunted by the way of the water and who strove to gain the sun. Men -there are there——behold! Or at least what remains of them for a space, -the bones, ere, in time, the bones, too, pass into nothingness.” - -“Even so,” said Francis, “I suddenly discover a pressing need to look -into the eye of the sun. Do the rest of you remain here while I -investigate.” - -Drawing his automatic, the water-tightness of the cartridges a -guarantee, he crawled under the web. The moment he had disappeared from -view beyond the web, they heard him begin to shoot. Next, they saw him -retreating backward, still shooting. And, next, falling upon him, two -yards across from black-haired leg-tip to black-haired leg-tip, the -denizen of the web, a monstrous spider, still wriggling with departing -life, shot through and through again and again. The solid center of its -body, from which the legs radiated, was the size of a normal -waste-basket, and the substantial density of it crunched audibly as it -struck on Francis’ shoulders and back, rebounded, the hairy legs still -helplessly quivering, and pitched down into the wave-crisping water. All -four pair of eyes watched the corpse of it plunge against the wall of -rock, suck down, and disappear. - -“Where there’s one, there are two,” said Henry, looking dubiously up -toward the daylight. - -“It is the only way,” said the Queen. “Come, my husband, each in the -other’s arms let us win through the darkness to the sun-bright world. -Remember, I have never seen it, and soon, with you, shall I for the -first time see it.” - -Her arms open in invitation, Francis could not decline. - -“It is a hole in the sheer wall of a precipice a thousand feet deep,” he -explained to the others the glimpse he had caught from beyond the spider -web, as he clasped the Queen in his arms and leaped off. - -Henry had gathered Leoncia to him and was about to leap, when she -stopped him. - -“Why did you accept Francis’ sacrifice?” she demanded. - -“Because ...” He paused and looked at her wonderingly. - -“Because I wanted you,” he completed. “Because I was engaged to you as -well, while Francis was unattached. Besides, if I’m not greatly -mistaken, Francis appears to be a pretty well satisfied bridegroom.” - -“No,” she shook her head emphatically. “He has a chivalrous spirit, and -he is acting his part in order not to hurt her feelings.” - -“Oh, I don’t know. Remember, before the altar, at the Long House, when I -said I was going to ask the Queen to marry me, that he bragged she -wouldn’t marry me if I did ask? Well, the conclusion’s pretty obvious -that he wanted her himself. And why shouldn’t he? He’s a bachelor. And -she’s some nice woman herself.” - -But Leoncia scarcely heard. With a quick movement, leaning back in his -arms away from him so that she could look him squarely in the eyes, she -demanded: - -“How do you love me? Do you love me madly? Do you love me badly madly? -Do I mean that to you, and more, and more, and more?” - -He could only look his bewilderment. - -“Do you?—do you?” she urged passionately. - -“Of course I do,” he made slow answer, “but it would never have entered -my head to describe it that way. Why, you’re the one woman for me. -Rather would I describe it as loving you deeply, and greatly, and -enduringly. Why, you seem so much a part of me that I feel almost as if -I had always known you. It was that way from the first.” - -“She is an abominable woman!” Leoncia broke forth irrelevantly. “I hated -her from the first.” - -“My! What a spitfire! I hate to think how much you would have hated her -had I married her instead of Francis.” - -“We’d better follow them,” she put an end to the discussion. - -And Henry, very much be-puzzled, clasped her tightly and leaped off into -the white turmoil of water. - - * * * * * - -On the bank of the Gualaca River sat two Indian girls fishing. Just -up-stream from them arose the precipitous cliff of one of the buttresses -of the lofty mountains. The main stream flowed past in chocolate-colored -spate; but, directly beneath them, where they fished, was a quiet eddy. -No less quiet was the fishing. No bites jerked their rods in token that -the bait was enticing. One of them, Nicoya, yawned, ate a banana, yawned -again, and held the skin she was about to cast aside suspended in her -hand. - -“We have been very quiet, Concordia,” she observed to her companion, -“and it has won us no fish. Now shall I make a noise and a splash. Since -they say ‘what goes up must come down,’ why should not something come up -after something has gone down? I am going to try. There!” - -She threw the banana peel into the water and lazily watched the point -where it had struck. - -“If anything comes up I hope it will be big,” Concordia murmured with -equal laziness. - -And upon their astonished gaze, even as they looked, arose up out of the -brown depths a great white hound. They jerked their poles up and behind -them on the bank, threw their arms about each other, and watched the -hound gain the shore at the lower end of the eddy, climb the sloping -bank, pause to shake himself, and then disappear among the trees. - -Nicoya and Concordia giggled. - -“Try it again,” Concordia urged. - -“No; you this time. And see what you can bring up.” - -Quite unbelieving, Concordia tossed in a clod of earth. And almost -immediately a helmeted head arose on the flood. Clutching each other -very tightly, they watched the man under the helmet gain the shore where -the hound had landed and disappear into the forest. - -Again the two Indian girls giggled; but this time, urge as they would, -neither could raise the courage to throw anything into the water. - -Some time later, still giggling over the strange occurrences, they were -espied by two young Indian men, who were hugging the bank as they -paddled their canoe up against the stream. - -“What makes you laugh,” one of them greeted. - -“We have been seeing things,” Nicoya gurgled down to them. - -“Then have you been drinking pulque,” the young man charged. - -Both girls shook their heads, and Concordia said: - -“We don’t have to drink to see things. First, when Nicoya threw in a -banana skin, we saw a dog come up out of the water——a white dog that was -as big as a tiger of the mountains——” - -“And when Concordia threw in a clod,” the other girl took up the tale, -“up came a man with a head of iron. It is magic. Concordia and I can -work magic.” - -“José,” one of the Indians addressed his mate, “this merits a drink.” - -And each, in turn, while the other with his paddle held the canoe in -place, took a swig from a square-face Holland gin bottle part full of -pulque. - -“No,” said José, when the girls had begged him for a drink. “One drink -of pulque and you might see more white dogs as big as tigers or more -iron-headed men.” - -“All right,” Nicoya accepted the rebuff. “Then do you throw in your -pulque bottle and see what you will see. We drew a dog and a man. Your -prize may be the devil.” - -“I should like to see the devil,” said José, taking another drain at the -bottle. “The pulque is a true fire of bravery. I should very much like -to see the devil.” - -He passed the bottle to his companion with a gesture to finish it. - -“Now throw it into the water,” José commanded. - -The empty bottle struck with a forceful splash, and the evoking was -realized with startling immediacy, for up to the surface floated the -monstrous, hairy body of the slain spider. Which was too much for -ordinary Indian flesh and blood. So suddenly did both young men recoil -from the sight that they capsized the canoe. When their heads emerged -from the water they struck out for the swift current, and were swiftly -borne away down stream, followed more slowly by the swamped canoe. - -Nicoya and Concordia had been too frightened to giggle. They held on to -each other and waited, watching the magic water and out of the tails of -their eyes observing the frightened young men capture the canoe, tow it -to shore, and run out and hide on the bank. - -The afternoon sun was getting low in the sky ere the girls summoned -courage again to evoke the magic water. Only after much discussion did -they agree both to fling in clods of earth at the same time. And up -arose a man and a woman——Francis and the Queen. The girls fell over -backward into the bushes, and were themselves unobserved as they watched -Francis swim with the Queen to shore. - -“It may just have happened——all these things may just have happened at -the very times we threw things into the water,” Nicoya whispered to -Concordia five minutes later. - -“But when we threw one thing in, only one came up,” Concordia argued. -“And when we threw two, two came up.” - -“Very well,” said Nicoya. “Let us now prove it. Let us try again, both -of us. If nothing comes up, then have we no power of magic.” - -Together they threw in clods, and uprose another man and woman. But this -pair, Henry and Leoncia, could swim, and they swam side by side to the -natural landing place, and, like the rest that had preceded them, passed -on out of sight among the trees. - -Long the two Indian girls lingered. For they had agreed to throw -nothing, and, if something arose, then would coincidence be proved. But -if nothing arose, because nothing further was by them evoked, they could -only conclude that the magic was truly theirs. They lay hidden and -watched the water until darkness hid it from their eyes; and, slowly and -soberly, they took the trail back to their village, overcome by an -awareness of having been blessed by the gods. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - -Not until the day following his escape from the subterranean river, did -Torres reach San Antonio. He arrived on foot, jaded and dirty, a small -Indian boy at his heels carrying the helmet of Da Vasco. For Torres -wanted to show the helmet to the Jefe and the Judge in evidence of the -narrative of strange adventure he chuckled to tell them. - -First on the main street he encountered the Jefe, who cried out loudly -at his appearance. - -“Is it truly you, Senor Torres?” The Jefe crossed himself solemnly ere -he shook hands. - -The solid flesh, and, even more so, the dirt and grit of the other’s -hand, convinced the Jefe of reality and substance. - -Whereupon the Jefe became wrathful. - -“And here I’ve been looking upon you as dead!” he exclaimed. “That Caroo -dog of a José Mancheno! He came back and reported you dead——dead and -buried until the Day of Judgment in the heart of the Maya Mountain.” - -“He is a fool, and I am possibly the richest man in Panama,” Torres -replied grandiosely. “At least, like the ancient and heroic -conquistadores, I have braved all dangers and penetrated to the -treasure. I have seen it. Nay——” - -Torres’ hand had been sunk into his trousers’ pocket to bring forth the -filched gems of the Lady Who Dreams; but he withdrew the hand empty. Too -many curious eyes of the street were already centered upon him and the -draggled figure he cut. - -“I have much to say to you,” he told the Jefe, “that cannot well be said -now. I have knocked on the doors of the dead and worn the shrouds of -corpses. And I have consorted with men four centuries dead but who were -not dust, and I have beheld them drown in the second death. I have gone -through mountains, as well as over them, and broken bread with lost -souls, and gazed into the Mirror of the World. All of which I shall tell -you, my best friend, and the honorable Judge, in due time, for I shall -make you rich along with me.” - -“Have you looked upon the pulque when it was sour?” the Jefe quipped -incredulously. - -“I have not had drink stronger than water since I last departed from San -Antonio,” was the reply. “And I shall go now to my house and drink a -long long drink, and after that I shall bathe the filth from me, and put -on garments whole and decent.” - -Not immediately, as he proceeded, did Torres gain his house. A ragged -urchin exclaimed out at sight of him, ran up to him, and handed him an -envelope that he knew familiarly to be from the local government -wireless, and that he was certain had been sent by Regan. - - _You are doing well. Imperative you keep party away from New York - for three weeks more. Fifty thousand if you succeed._ - -Borrowing a pencil from the boy, Torres wrote a reply on the back of the -envelope: - - _Send the money. Party will never come back from mountains where he - is lost._ - -Two other occurrences delayed Torres’ long drink and bath. Just as he -was entering the jewelry store of old Rodriguez Fernandez, he was -intercepted by the old Maya priest with whom he had last parted in the -Maya mountain. He recoiled as from an apparition, for sure he was that -the old man was drowned in the Room of the Gods. Like the Jefe at sight -of Torres, so Torres, at sight of the priest, drew back in startled -surprise. - -“Go away,” he said. “Depart, restless old man. You are a spirit. Thy -body lies drowned and horrible in the heart of the mountain. You are an -appearance, a ghost. Go away, nothing corporeal resides in this illusion -of you, else would I strike you. You are a ghost. Depart at once. I -should not like to strike a ghost.” - -But the ghost seized his hands and clung to them with such beseeching -corporality as to unconvince him. - -“Money,” the ancient one babbled. “Let me have money. Lend me money. I -will repay——I who know the secrets of the Maya treasure. My son is lost -in the mountain with the treasure. The Gringos also are lost in the -mountain. Help me to rescue my son. With him alone will I be satisfied, -while the treasure shall all be yours. But we must take men, and much of -the white man’s wonderful powder and tear a hole out of the mountain so -that the water will run away. He is not drowned. He is a prisoner of the -water in the room where stand the jewel-eyed Chia and Hzatzl. Their eyes -of green and red alone will pay for all the wonderful powder in the -world. So let me have the money with which to buy the wonderful powder.” - -But Alvarez Torres was a strangely constituted man. Some warp or slant -or idiosyncrasy of his nature always raised insuperable obstacles to his -parting with money when such parting was unavoidable. And the richer he -got the more positively this idiosyncrasy asserted itself. - -“Money!” he asserted harshly, as he thrust the old priest aside and -pulled open the door of Fernandez’s store. “Is it I who should have -money—. I who am all rags and tatters as a beggar. I have no money for -myself, much less for you, old man. Besides, it was you, and not I, who -led your son to the Maya mountain. On your head be it, not on mine, the -death of your son who fell into the pit under the feet of Chia that was -digged by your ancestors and not by mine.” - -Again the ancient one clutched at him and yammered for money with which -to buy dynamite. So roughly did Torres thrust him aside that his old -legs failed to perform their wonted duty and he fell upon the -flagstones. - -The shop of Rodriguez Fernandez was small and dirty, and contained -scarcely more than a small and dirty showcase that rested upon an -equally small and dirty counter. The place was grimy with the undusted -and unswept filth of a generation. Lizards and cockroaches crawled along -the walls. Spiders webbed in every corner, and Torres saw, crossing the -ceiling above, what made him step hastily to the side. It was a -seven-inch centipede which he did not care to have fall casually upon -his head or down his back between shirt and skin. And, when he appeared -crawling out like a huge spider himself from some inner den of an -unventilated cubicle, Fernandez looked like an Elizabethan -stage-representation of Shylock——withal he was a dirtier Shylock than -even the Elizabethan stage could have stomached. - -The jeweler fawned to Torres and in a cracked falsetto humbled himself -even beneath the dirt of his shop. Torres pulled from his pocket a -haphazard dozen or more of the gems filched from the Queen’s chest, -selected the smallest, and, without a word, while at the same time -returning the rest to his pocket, passed it over to the jeweler. - -“I am a poor man,” he cackled, the while Torres could not fail to see -how keenly he scrutinised the gem. - -He dropped it on the top of the show case as of little worth, and looked -inquiringly at his customer. But Torres waited in a silence which he -knew would compel the garrulity of covetous age to utterance. - -“Do I understand that the honorable Senor Torres seeks advice about the -quality of the stone?” the old jeweler finally quavered. - -Torres did no more than nod curtly. - -“It is a natural gem. It is small. It, as you can see for yourself, is -not perfect. And it is clear that much of it will be lost in the -cutting.” - -“How much is it worth?” Torres demanded with impatient bluntness. - -“I am a poor man,” Fernandez reiterated. - -“I have not asked you to buy it, old fool. But now that you bring the -matter up, how much will you give for it?” - -“As I was saying, craving your patience, honorable senor, as I was -saying, I am a very poor man. There are days when I cannot spend ten -centavos for a morsel of spoiled fish. There are days when I cannot -afford a sip of the cheap red wine I learned was tonic to my system when -I was a lad, far from Barcelona, serving my apprenticeship in Italy. I -am so very poor that I do not buy costly pretties——” - -“Not to sell again at a profit?” Torres cut in. - -“If I am sure of my profit,” the old man cackled. “Yes, then will I buy; -but, being poor, I cannot pay more than little.” He picked up the gem -and studied it long and carefully. “I would give,” he began -hesitatingly, “I would give——but, please, honorable senor, know that I -am a very poor man. This day only a spoonful of onion soup, with my -morning coffee and a mouthful of crust, passed my lips——” - -“In God’s name, old fool, what will you give?” Torres thundered. - -“Five hundred dollars—but I doubt the profit that will remain to me.” - -“Gold?” - -“Mex.,” came the reply, which cut the offer in half and which Torres -knew was a lie. “Of course, Mex., only Mex., all our transactions are in -Mex.” - -Despite his elation at so large a price for so small a gem, Torres -play-acted impatience as he reached to take back the gem. But the old -man jerked his hand away, loath to let go of the bargain it contained. - -“We are old friends,” he cackled shrilly. “I first saw you, when, a boy, -you came to San Antonio from Boca del Toros. And, as between old -friends, we will say the sum is gold.” - -And Torres caught a sure but vague glimpse of the enormousness, as well -as genuineness, of the Queen’s treasure which at some remote time the -Lost Souls had ravished from its hiding place in the Maya Mountain. - -“Very good,” said Torres, with a quick, cavalier action recovering the -stone. “It belongs to a friend of mine. He wanted to borrow money from -me on it. I can now lend him up to five hundred gold on it, thanks to -your information. And I shall be grateful to buy for you, the next time -we meet in the pulqueria, a drink—yes, as many drinks as you can care to -carry—of the thin, red, tonic wine.” - -And as Torres passed out of the shop, not in any way attempting to hide -the scorn and contempt he felt for the fool he had made of the jeweler, -he knew elation in that Fernandez, the Spanish fox, must have cut his -estimate of the gem’s value fully in half when he uttered it. - - * * * * * - -In the meanwhile, descending the Gualaca River by canoe, Leoncia, the -Queen, and the two Morgans, had made better time than Torres to the -coast. But ere their arrival and briefly pending it, a matter of moment -that was not appreciated at the time, had occurred at the Solano -hacienda. Climbing the winding pathway to the hacienda, accompanied by a -decrepit old crone whose black shawl over head and shoulders could not -quite hide the lean and withered face of blasted volcanic fire, came as -strange a caller as the hacienda had ever received. - -He was a Chinaman, middle-aged and fat, whose moon-face beamed the -beneficent good nature that seems usual with fat persons. By name, Yi -Poon, meaning “the Cream of the Custard Apple,” his manners were as -softly and richly oily as his name. To the old crone, who tottered -beside him and was half-supported by him, he was the quintessence of -gentleness and consideration. When she faltered from sheer physical -weakness and would have fallen, he paused and gave her chance to gain -strength and breath. Thrice, at such times, on the climb to the -hacienda, he fed her a spoonful of French brandy from a screw-cap pocket -flask. - -Seating the old woman in a selected, shady corner of the piazza, Yi Poon -boldly knocked for admittance at the front door. To him, and in his -business, back-stairs was the accustomed way; but his business and his -wit had taught him the times when front entrances were imperative. - -The Indian maid who answered his knock, took his message into the living -room where sat the disconsolate Enrico Solano among his -sons—disconsolate at the report Ricardo had brought in of the loss of -Leoncia in the Maya Mountain. The Indian maid returned to the door. The -Senor Solano was indisposed and would see nobody, was her report, humbly -delivered, even though the recipient was a Chinese. - -“Huh!” observed Yi Poon, with braggart confidence for the purpose of -awing the maid to carrying a second message. “I am no coolie. I am smart -Chinaman. I go to school plenty much. I speak Spanish. I speak English. -I write Spanish. I write English. See—I write now in Spanish for the -Senor Solano. You cannot write, so you cannot read what I write. I write -that I am Yi Poon. I belong Colon. I come this place to see Senor -Solano. Big business. Much important. Very secret. I write all this here -on paper which you cannot read.” - -But he did not say that he had further written: - -“_The Senorita Solano. I have great secret._” - -It was Alesandro, the eldest of the tall sons of Solano, who evidently -had received the note, for he came bounding to the door, far -outstripping the returning maid. - -“Tell me your business!” he almost shouted at the fat Chinese. “What is -it? Quick!” - -“Very good business,” was the reply, Yi Poon noting the other’s -excitement with satisfaction. “I make much money. I buy—what you -call—secrets. I sell secrets. Very nice business.” - -“What do you know about the Senorita Solano?” Alesandro shouted, -gripping him by the shoulder. - -“Everything. Very important information——” - -But Alesandro could no longer control himself. He almost hurled the -Chinaman into the house, and, not relaxing his grip, rushed him on into -the living room and up to Enrico. - -“He has news of Leoncia!” Alesandro shouted. - -“Where is she?” Enrico and his sons shouted in chorus. - -Hah!—was Yi Poon’s thought. Such excitement, although it augured well -for his business, was rather exciting for him as well. - -Mistaking his busy thinking for fright, Enrico stilled his sons back -with an upraised hand, and addressed the visitor quietly. - -“Where is she?” Enrico asked. - -Hah!—thought Yi Poon. The senorita was lost. That was a new secret. It -might be worth something some day, or any day. A nice girl, of high -family and wealth such as the Solanos, lost in a Latin-American country, -was information well worth possessing. Some day she might be -married—there was that gossip he had heard in Colon—and some later day -she might have trouble with her husband or her husband have trouble with -her——at which time, she or her husband, it mattered not which, might be -eager to pay high for the secret. - -“This Senorita Leoncia,” he said, finally, with sleek suavity. “She is -not your girl. She has other papa and mama.” - -But Enrico’s present grief at her loss was too great to permit -startlement at this explicit statement of an old secret. - -“Yes,” he nodded. “Though it is not known outside my family, I adopted -her when she was a baby. It is strange that you should know this. But I -am not interested in having you tell me what I have long since known. -What I want to know now is: _where is she now_?” - -Yi Poon gravely and sympathetically shook his head. - -“That is different secret,” he explained. “Maybe I find that secret. -Then I sell it to you. But I have old secret. You do not know the name -of the Senorita Leoncia’s papa and mama. I know.” - -And old Enrico Solano could not hide his interest at the temptation of -such information. - -“Speak,” he commanded. “Name the names, and prove them, and I shall -reward.” - -“No,” Yi Poon shook his head. “Very poor business. I no do business that -way. You pay me I tell you. My secrets good secrets. I prove my secrets. -You give me five hundred pesos and big expenses from Colon to San -Antonio and back to Colon and I tell you name of papa and mama.” - -Enrico Solano bowed acquiescence, and was just in the act of ordering -Alesandro to go and fetch the money, when the quiet, spirit-subdued -Indian maid created a diversion. Running into the room and up to Enrico -as they had never seen her run before, she wrung her hands and wept so -incoherently that they knew her paroxysm was of joy, not of sadness. - -“The Senorita!” she was finally able to whisper hoarsely, as she -indicated the side piazza with a nod of head and glance of eyes. “The -Senorita!” - -And Yi Poon and his secret were forgotten. Enrico and his sons streamed -out to the side piazza to behold Leoncia and the Queen and the two -Morgans, dropping dust-covered off the backs of riding mules -recognizable as from the pastures of the mouth of the Gualaca River. At -the same time two Indian man-servants, summoned by the maid, cleared the -house and grounds of the fat Chinaman and his old crone of a companion. - -“Come some other time,” they told him. “Just now the Senor Solano is -very importantly busy.” - -“Sure, I come some other time,” Yi Poon assured them pleasantly, without -resentment and without betrayal of the disappointment that was his at -his deal interrupted just ere the money was paid into his hand. - -But he departed reluctantly. The place was good for his business. It was -sprouting secrets. Never was there a riper harvest in Canaan out of -which, sickle in hand, a husbandman was driven! Had it not been for the -zealous Indian attendants, Yi Poon would have darted around the corner -of the hacienda to note the newcomers. As it was, half way down the -hill, finding the weight of the crone too fatiguing, he put into her the -life and ability to carry her own weight a little farther by feeding her -a double teaspoonful of brandy from his screw-top flask. - -Enrico swept Leoncia off her mule ere she could dismount, so -passionately eager was he to fold her in his arms. For several minutes -ensued naught but noisy Latin affection as her brothers all strove to -greet and embrace her at once. When they recollected themselves, Francis -had already helped the Lady Who Dreams from her mount, and beside her, -her hand in his, was waiting recognition. - -“This is my wife,” Francis told Enrico. “I went into the Cordilleras -after treasure, and behold what I found. Was there ever better fortune?” - -“And she sacrificed a great treasure herself,” Leoncia murmured bravely. - -“She was queen of a little kingdom,” Francis added, with a grateful and -admiring flash of eyes to Leoncia, who quickly added: - -“And she saved all our lives but sacrificed her little kingdom in so -doing.” - -And Leoncia, in an exaltation of generousness, put her arm around the -Queen’s waist, took her away from Francis, and led the way into the -hacienda. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - -In all the magnificence of medieval Spanish and New World costume such -as was still affected by certain of the great haciendados of Panama, -Torres rode along the beach-road to the home of the Solanos. Running -with him, at so easy a lope that it promised an extension that would -outspeed the best of Torres’ steed, was the great white hound that had -followed him down the subterranean river. As Torres turned to take the -winding road up the hill to the hacienda, he passed Yi Poon, who had -paused to let the old crone gather strength. He merely noticed the -strange couple as dirt of the common people. The hauteur that he put on -with his magnificence of apparel forbade that he should betray any -interest further than an unseeing glance. - -But him Yi Poon noted with slant Oriental eyes that missed no details. -And Yi Poon thought: He looks very rich. He is a friend of the Solanos. -He rides to the house. He may even be a lover of the Senorita -Leoncia.—Or a worsted rival for her love. In almost any case, he might -be expected to buy the secret of the Senorita Leoncia’s birth, and he -certainly looks rich, most rich. - -Inside the hacienda, assembled in the living room, were the returned -adventurers and all the Solanos. The Queen, taking her turn in piecing -out the narrative of all that had occurred, with flashing eyes was -denouncing Torres for his theft of her jewels and describing his fall -into the whirlpool before the onslaught of the hound, when Leoncia, at -the window with Henry, uttered a sharp exclamation. - -“Speak of the devil!” said Henry. “Here comes Torres himself.” - -“Me first!” Francis cried, doubling his fist and flexing his biceps -significantly. - -“No,” decreed Leoncia. “He is a wonderful liar. He is a very wonderful -liar, as we’ve all found out. Let us have some fun. He is dismounting -now. Let the four of us disappear.—Father!” With a wave of hand she -indicated Enrico and all his sons. “You will sit around desolated over -the loss of me. This scoundrel Torres will enter. You will be thirsty -for information. He will tell you no one can guess what astounding lies -about us. As for us, we’ll hide behind the screen there.—Come! All of -you!” - -And, catching the Queen by the hand and leading the way, with her eyes -she commanded Francis and Henry to follow to the hiding place. - -And Torres entered upon a scene of sorrow which had been so recently -real that Enrico and his sons had no difficulty in acting it. Enrico -started up from his chair in eagerness of welcome and sank weakly back. -Torres caught the other’s hand in both his own and manifested deep -sympathy and could not speak from emotion. - -“Alas!” he finally managed heart-brokenly. “They are dead. She is dead, -your beautiful daughter, Leoncia. And the two Gringo Morgans are dead -with her. As Ricardo, there, must know, they died in the heart of the -Maya Mountain. - -“It is the home of mystery,” he continued, after giving due time for the -subsidence of the first violent outburst of Enrico’s grief. “I was with -them when they died. Had they followed my counsel, they would all have -lived. But not even Leoncia would listen to the old friend of the -Solanos. No, she must listen to the two Gringos. After incredible -dangers I won my way out through the heart of the mountain, gazed down -into the Valley of Lost Souls, and returned into the mountain to find -them dying——” - -Here, pursued by an Indian man-servant, the white hound bounded into the -room, trembling and whining in excitement as with its nose it quested -the multitudinous scents of the room that advertised his mistress. -Before he could follow up to where the Queen hid behind the screen, -Torres caught him by the neck and turned him over to a couple of the -Indian house-men to hold. - -“Let the brute remain,” said Torres. “I will tell you about him -afterward. But first look at this.” He pulled forth a handful of gems. -“I knocked on the doors of the dead, and, behold, the Maya treasure is -mine. I am the richest man in Panama, in all the Americas. I shall be -powerful——” - -“But you were with my daughter when she died,” Enrico interrupted to -sob. “Had she no word for me?” - -“Yes,” Torres sobbed back, genuinely affected by the death-scene of his -fancy. “She died with your name on her lips. Her last words were——” - -But, with bulging eyes, he failed to complete his sentence, for he was -watching Henry and Leoncia, in the most natural, casual manner in the -world stroll down the room, immersed in quiet conversation. Not noticing -Torres, they crossed over to the window still deep in talk. - -“You were telling me her last words were ...?” Enrico prompted. - -“I ... I have lied to you,” Torres stammered, while he sparred for time -in which to get himself out of the scrape. “I was confident that they -were as good as dead and would never find their way to the world again. -And I thought to soften the blow to you, Senor Solano, by telling what I -am confident would be her last words were she dying. Also, this man -Francis, whom you have elected to like. I thought it better for you to -believe him dead than know him for the Gringo cur he is.” - -Here the hound barked joyfully at the screen, giving the two Indians all -they could do to hold him back. But Torres, instead of suspecting, -blundered on to his fate. - -“In the Valley there is a silly weak demented creature who pretends to -read the future by magic. An altogether atrocious and blood-thirsty -female is she. I am not denying that in physical beauty she is -beautiful. For beautiful she is, as a centipede is beautiful to those -who think centipedes are beautiful. You see what has happened. She has -sent Henry and Leoncia out of the Valley by some secret way, while -Francis has elected to remain there with her in sin——for sin it is, -since there exists in the valley no Catholic priest to make their -relation lawful. Oh, not that Francis is infatuated with the terrible -creature. But he is infatuated with a paltry treasure the creature -possesses. And this is the Gringo Francis you have welcomed into the -bosom of your family, the slimy snake of a Gringo Francis who has even -dared to sully the fair Leoncia by casting upon her the looks of a -lover. Oh, I know of what I speak. I have seen——” - -A joyous outburst from the hound drowned his voice, and he beheld -Francis and the Queen, as deep in conversation as the two who had -preceded them, walk down the room. The Queen paused to caress the hound, -who stood so tall against her that his forepaws, on her shoulders, -elevated his head above hers; while Torres licked his suddenly dry lips -and vainly cudgeled his brains for some fresh lie with which to -extricate himself from the impossible situation. - -Enrico Solano was the first to break down in mirth. All his sons joined -him, while tears of sheer delight welled out of his eyes. - -“I could have married her myself,” Torres sneered malignantly. “She -begged me on her knees.” - -“And now,” said Francis, “I shall save you all a dirty job by throwing -him out.” - -But Henry, advancing swiftly, asserted: - -“I like dirty jobs equally. And this is a dirty job particularly to my -liking.” - -Both the Morgans were about to fall on Torres, when the Queen held up -her hand. - -“First,” she said, “let him return to me, from there in his belt, the -dagger he stole from me.” - -“Ah,” said Enrico, when this had been accomplished. “Should he not also -return to you, lovely lady, the gems he filched?” - -Torres did not hesitate. Dipping into his pocket, he laid a handful of -the jewels on the table. Enrico glanced at the Queen, who merely waited -expectantly. - -“More,” said Enrico. - -And three more of the beautiful uncut stones Torres added to the others -on the table. - -“Would you search me like a common pickpocket?” he demanded in frantic -indignation, turning both trousers’ pockets emptily inside out. - -“Me,” said Francis. - -“I insist,” said Henry. - -“Oh, all very well,” Francis conceded. “Then we’ll do it together. We -can throw him farther off the steps.” - -Acting as one, they clutched Torres by collar and trousers and started -in a propulsive rush for the door. - -All others in the room ran to the windows to behold Torres’ exit; but -Enrico, quickest of all, gained a window first. And, afterward, into the -middle of the room, the Queen scooped the gems from the table into both -her hands, and gave the double handful to Leoncia, saying: - -“From Francis and me to you and Henry——your wedding present.” - - * * * * * - -Yi Poon, having left the crone by the beach and crept back to peer at -the house from the bushes, chuckled gratifiedly to himself when he saw -the rich caballero thrown off the steps with such a will as to be sent -sprawling far out into the gravel. But Yi Poon was too clever to let on -that he had seen. Hurrying away, he was half down the hill ere overtaken -by Torres on his horse. - -The celestial addressed him humbly, and Torres, in his general rage, -lifted his riding whip savagely to slash him across the face. But Yi -Poon did not quail. - -“The Senorita Leoncia,” he said quickly, and arrested the blow. “I have -great secret.” Torres waited, the whip still lifted as a threat. “You -like ‘m some other man marry that very nice Senorita Leoncia?” - -Torres dropped the whip to his side. - -“Go on,” he commanded harshly. “What is the secret?” - -“You no want ‘m other man marry that Senorita Leoncia?” - -“Suppose I don’t?” - -“Then, suppose you have secret, you can stop other man.” - -“Well, what is it? Spit it out.” - -“But first,” Yi Poon shook his head, “you pay me six hundred dollars -gold. Then I tell you secret.” - -“I’ll pay you,” Torres said readily, although without the slightest -thought of keeping his word. “You tell me first, then, if no lie, I’ll -pay you.—See!” - -From his breast pocket he drew a wallet bulging with paper bills; and Yi -Poon, uneasily acquiescing, led him down the road to the crone on the -beach. - -“This old woman,” he explained, “she no lie. She sick woman. Pretty soon -she die. She is afraid. She talk to priest along Colon. Priest say she -must tell secret, or die and go to hell. So she no lie.” - -“Well, if she doesn’t lie, what is it she must tell?” - -“You pay me?” - -“Sure. Six hundred gold.” - -“Well, she born Cadiz in old country. She number one servant, number one -baby nurse. One time she take job with English family that come -traveling in her country. Long time she work with that family. She go -back along England. Then, bime by——you know Spanish blood very hot——she -get very mad. That family have one little baby girl. She steal little -baby girl and run away to Panama. That little baby girl Senor Solano he -adopt just the same his own daughter. He have plenty sons and no -daughter. So that little baby girl he make his daughter. But that old -woman she no tell what name belong little girl’s family. That family -very high blood, very rich, everybody in England know that family. That -family’s name ‘Morgan.’ You know that name? In Colon comes San Antonio -men who say Senor Solano’s daughter marry English Gringo named Morgan. -That Gringo Morgan the Senorita Leoncia’s brother.” - -“Ah!” said Torres with maleficent delight. - -“You pay me now six hundred gold,” said Yi Poon. - -“Thank you for the fool you are,” said Torres with untold mockery in his -voice. “You will learn better perhaps some day the business of selling -secrets. Secrets are not shoes or mahogany timber. A secret told is no -more than a whisper in the air. It comes. It goes. It is gone. It is a -ghost. Who has seen it? You can claim back shoes or mahogany timber. You -can never claim back a secret when you have told it.” - -“We talk of ghosts, you and I,” said Yi Poon calmly. “And the ghosts are -gone. I have told you no secret. You have dreamed a dream. When you tell -men they will ask you who told you. And you will say, ‘Yi Poon.’ But Yi -Poon will say, ‘No.’ And they will say, ‘Ghosts,’ and laugh at you.” - -Yi Poon, feeling the other yield to his superior subtlety of thought, -deliberately paused. - -“We have talked whispers,” he resumed after a few seconds. “You speak -true when you say whispers are ghosts. When I sell secrets I do not sell -ghosts. I sell shoes. I sell mahogany timber. My proofs are what I sell. -They are solid. On the scales they will weigh weight. You can tear the -paper of them, which is legal paper of record, on which they are -written. Some of them, not paper, you can bite with your teeth and break -your teeth upon. For the whispers are already gone like morning mists. I -have proofs. You will pay me six hundred gold for the proofs, or men -will laugh at you for lending your ears to ghosts.” - -“All right,” Torres capitulated, convinced. “Show me the proofs that I -can tear and bite.” - -“Pay me the six hundred gold.” - -“When you have shown me the proofs.” - -“The proofs you can tear and bite are yours after you have put the six -hundred gold into my hand. You promise. A promise is a whisper, a ghost. -I do not do business with ghost money. You pay me real money I can tear -or bite.” - -And in the end Torres surrendered, paying in advance for what did -satisfy him when he had examined the documents, the old letters, the -baby locket and the baby trinkets. And Torres not only assured Yi Poon -that he was satisfied, but paid him in advance, on the latter’s -insistence, an additional hundred gold to execute a commission for him. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile, in the bathroom which connected their bedrooms, clad in fresh -underlinen and shaving with safety razors, Henry and Francis were -singing: - - “Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew....” - -In her charming quarters, aided and abetted by a couple of Indian -seamstresses, Leoncia, half in mirth, half in sadness, and in all -sweetness and wholesomeness of generosity, was initiating the Queen into -the charmingness of civilized woman’s dress. The Queen, a true woman to -her heart’s core, was wild with delight in the countless pretties of -texture and adornment with which Leoncia’s wardrobe was stored. It was a -maiden frolic for the pair of them, and a stitch here and a take-up -there modified certain of Leoncia’s gowns to the Queen’s slenderness. - -“No,” said Leoncia judicially. “You will not need a corset. You are the -one woman in a hundred for whom a corset is not necessary. You have the -roundest lines for a thin woman that I ever saw. You ...” Leoncia -paused, apparently deflected by her need for a pin from her dressing -table, for which she turned; but at the same time she swallowed the -swelling that choked in her throat, so that she was able to continue: -“You are a beautiful bride, and Francis can only grow prouder of you.” - -In the bathroom, Francis, finished shaving first, broke off the song to -respond to the knock at his bedroom door and received a telegram from -Fernando, the next to the youngest of the Solano brothers. And Francis -read: - - _Important your immediate return. Need more margins. While market - very weak but a strong attack on all your stocks except Tampico - Petroleum, which is strong as ever. Wire me when to expect you. - Situation is serious. Think I can hold out if you start to return at - once. Wire me at once._ - - _Bascom._ - -In the living room the two Morgans found Enrico and his sons opening -wine. - -“Having but had my daughter restored to me,” Enrico said, “I now lose -her again. But it is an easier loss, Henry. To-morrow shall be the -wedding. It cannot take place too quickly. It is sure, right now, that -that scoundrel Torres is whispering all over San Antonio Leoncia’s -latest unprotected escapade with you.” - -Ere Henry could express his gratification, Leoncia and the Queen -entered. He held up his glass and toasted: - -“To the bride!” - -Leoncia, not understanding, raised a glass from the table and glanced to -the Queen. - -“No, no,” Henry said, taking her glass with the intention of passing it -to the Queen. - -“No, no,” said Enrico. “Neither shall drink the toast which is -incomplete. Let me make it: - -“To the brides!” - -“You and Henry are to be married to-morrow,” Alesandro explained to -Leoncia. - -Unexpected and bitter though the news was, Leoncia controlled herself, -and dared with assumed jollity to look Francis in the eyes while she -cried: - -“Another toast! To the bridegrooms!” - -Difficult as Francis had found it to marry the Queen and maintain -equanimity, he now found equanimity impossible at the announcement of -the immediate marriage of Leoncia. Nor did Leoncia fail to observe how -hard he struggled to control himself. His suffering gave her secret joy, -and with a feeling almost of triumph she watched him take advantage of -the first opportunity to leave the room. - -Showing them his telegram and assuring them that his fortune was at -stake, he said he must get off an answer and asked Fernando to arrange -for a rider to carry it to the government wireless at San Antonio. - -Nor was Leoncia long in following him. In the library she came upon him, -seated at the reading table, his telegram unwritten, while his gaze was -fixed upon a large photograph of her which he had taken from its place -on top the low bookshelves. All of which was too much for her. Her -involuntary gasping sob brought him to his feet in time to catch her as -she swayed into his arms. And before either knew it their lips were -together in fervent expression. - -Leoncia struggled and tore herself away, gazing upon her lover with -horror. - -“This must stop, Francis!” she cried. “More: you cannot remain here for -my wedding. If you do, I shall not be responsible for my actions. There -is a steamer leaves San Antonio for Colon. You and your wife must sail -on it. You can easily catch passage on the fruit boats to New Orleans -and take train to New York. I love you!—you know it.” - -“The Queen and I are not married!” Francis pleaded, beside himself, -overcome by what had taken place. “That heathen marriage before the -Altar of the Sun was no marriage. In neither deed nor ceremony are we -married. I assure you of that, Leoncia. It is not too late——” - -“That heathen marriage has lasted you thus far,” she interrupted him -with quiet firmness. “Let it last you to New York, or, at least, to ... -Colon.” - -“The Queen will not have any further marriage after our forms,” Francis -said. “She insists that all her female line before her has been so -married and that the Sun Altar ceremony is sacredly binding.” - -Leoncia shrugged her shoulders non-committally, although her face was -stern with resolution. - -“Marriage or no,” she replied, “you must go—to-night—the pair of you. -Else I shall go mad. I warn you: I shall not be able to withstand the -presence of you. I cannot, I know I cannot, be able to stand the sight -of you while I am being married to Henry and after I am married to -Henry.—Oh, please, please, do not misunderstand me. I do love Henry, but -not in the ... not in that way ... not in the way I love you. I—and I am -not ashamed of the boldness with which I say it—I love Henry about as -much as you love the Queen; but I love you as I should love Henry, as -you should love the Queen, as I know you do love me.” - -She caught his hand and pressed it against her heart. - -“There! For the last time! Now go!” - -But his arms were around her, and she could not help but yield her lips. -Again she tore herself away, this time fleeing to the doorway. Francis -bowed his head to her decision, then picked up her picture. - -“I shall keep this,” he announced. - -“You oughtn’t to,” she flashed a last fond smile at him. “You may,” she -added, as she turned and was gone. - - * * * * * - -Yet Yi Poon had a commission to execute, for which Torres had paid him -one hundred gold in advance. Next morning, with Francis and the Queen -hours departed on their way to Colon, Yi Poon arrived at the Solano -hacienda. Enrico, smoking a cigar on the veranda and very much pleased -with himself and all the world and the way the world was going, -recognized and welcomed Yi Poon as his visitor of the day before. Even -ere they talked, Leoncia’s father had dispatched Alesandro for the five -hundred pesos agreed upon. And Yi Poon, whose profession was trafficking -in secrets, was not averse to selling his secret the second time. Yet -was he true to his salt, in so far as he obeyed Torres’ instructions in -refusing to tell the secret save in the presence of Leoncia and Henry. - -“That secret has the string on it,” Yi Poon apologized, after the couple -had been summoned, as he began unwrapping the parcel of proofs. “The -Senorita Leoncia and the man she is going to marry must first, before -anybody else, look at these things. Afterward, all can look.” - -“Which is fair, since they are more interested than any of us,” Enrico -conceded grandly, although at the same time he betrayed his eagerness by -the impatience with which he motioned his daughter and Henry to take the -evidence to one side for examination. - -He tried to appear uninterested, but his side-glances missed nothing of -what they did. To his amazement, he saw Leoncia suddenly cast down a -legal-appearing document, which she and Henry had read through, and -throw her arms, whole-heartedly and freely about his neck, and -whole-heartedly and freely kiss him on the lips. Next, Enrico saw Henry -step back and exclaim in a dazed, heart-broken way: - -“But, my God, Leoncia! This is the end of everything. Never can we be -husband and wife!” - -“Eh?” Enrico snorted. “When everything was arranged! What do you mean, -sir? This is an insult! Marry you shall, and marry to-day!” - -Henry, almost in stupefaction, looked to Leoncia to speak for him. - -“It is against God’s law and man’s,” she said, “for a man to marry his -sister. Now I understand my strange love for Henry. He is my brother. We -are full brother and sister, unless these documents lie.” - -And Yi Poon knew that he could take report to Torres that the marriage -would not take place and would never take place. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - -Catching a United Fruit Company boat at Colon within fifteen minutes -after landing from the small coaster, the Queen’s progress with Francis -to New York had been a swift rush of fortunate connections. At New -Orleans a taxi from the wharf to the station and a racing of porters -with hand luggage had barely got them aboard the train just as it -started. Arrived at New York, Francis had been met by Bascom, in -Francis’ private machine, and the rush had continued to the rather -ornate palace R.H.M. himself, Francis’ father, had built out of his -millions on Riverside Drive. - -So it was that the Queen knew scarcely more of the great world than when -she first started her travels by leaping into the subterranean river. -Had she been a lesser creature, she would have been stunned by this vast -civilisation around her. As it was, she was royally inconsequential, -accepting such civilization as an offering from her royal spouse. Royal -he was, served by many slaves. Had she not, on steamer and train, -observed it? And here, arrived at his palace, she took as a matter of -course the showing of house servants that greeted them. The chauffeur -opened the door of the limousine. Other servants carried in the hand -baggage. Francis touched his hand to nothing, save to her arm to assist -her to alight. Even Bascom—a man she divined was no servitor—she also -divined as one who served Francis. And she could not but observe Bascom -depart in Francis’ limousine, under instruction and command of Francis. - -She had been a queen, in an isolated valley, over a handful of savages. -Yet here, in this mighty land of kings, her husband ruled kings. It was -all very wonderful, and she was deliciously aware that her queenship had -suffered no diminishing by her alliance with Francis. - -Her delight in the interior of the mansion was naïve and childlike. -Forgetting the servants, or, rather, ignoring them as she ignored her -own attendants in her lake dwelling, she clapped her hands in the great -entrance hall, glanced at the marble stairway, tripped in a little run -to the nearest apartment, and peeped in. It was the library, which she -had visioned in the Mirror of the World the first day she saw Francis. -And the vision realized itself, for Francis entered with her into the -great room of books, his arm about her, just as she had seen him on the -fluid-metal surface of the golden bowl. The telephones, and the -stock-ticker, too, she remembered; and, just as she had foreseen herself -do, she crossed over to the ticker curiously to examine, and Francis, -his arm still about her, stood by her side. - -Hardly had he begun an attempted explanation of the instrument, and just -as he realized the impossibility of teaching her in several minutes all -the intricacies of the stock market institution, when his eyes noted on -the tape that Frisco Consolidated was down twenty points—a thing -unprecedented in that little Iowa railroad which R.H.M. had financed and -builded and to the day of his death maintained proudly as so legitimate -a creation, that, though half the banks and all of Wall Street crashed, -it would weather any storm. - -The Queen viewed with alarm the alarm that grew on Francis’ face. - -“It is magic—like my Mirror of the World?” she half-queried, -half-stated. - -Francis nodded. - -“It tells you secrets, I know,” she continued. “Like my golden bowl, it -brings all the world, here within this very room, to you. It brings you -trouble. That is very plain. But what trouble can this world bring you, -who are one of its great kings?” - -He opened his mouth to reply to her last question, halted, and said -nothing, realizing the impossibility of conveying comprehension to her, -the while, under his eyelids, or at the foreground of his brain, burned -pictures of great railroad and steamship lines, of teeming terminals and -noisy docks; of miners toiling in Alaska, in Montana, in Death Valley; -of bridled rivers, and harnessed waterfalls, and of power-lines stilting -across lowlands and swamps and marshes on two-hundred-foot towers; and -of all the mechanics and economics and finances of the twentieth century -machine-civilization. - -“It brings you trouble,” she repeated. “And, alas! I cannot help you. My -golden bowl is no more. Never again shall I see the world in it. I am no -longer a ruler of the future. I am a woman merely, and helpless in this -strange, colossal world to which you have brought me. I am a woman -merely, and your wife, Francis, your proud wife.” - -Almost did he love her, as, dropping the tape, he pressed her closely -for a moment ere going over to the battery of telephones. She is -delightful, was his thought. There is neither guile nor malice in her, -only woman, all woman, lovely and lovable——alas, that Leoncia should -ever and always arise in my thought between her whom I have and herself -whom I shall never have! - -“More magic,” the Queen murmured, as Francis, getting Bascom’s office, -said: - -“Mr. Bascom will undoubtedly arrive back in half an hour. This is Morgan -talking——Francis Morgan. Mr. Bascom left for his office not five minutes -ago. When he arrives, tell him that I have started for his office and -shall not be more than five minutes behind him. This is important. Tell -him I am on the way. Thank you. Good bye.” - -Very naturally, with all the wonders of the great house yet to be shown -her, the Queen betrayed her disappointment when Francis told her he must -immediately depart for a place called Wall Street. - -“What is it,” she asked, with a pout of displeasure, “that drags you -away from me like a slave?” - -“It is business——and very important,” he told her with a smile and a -kiss. - -“And what is Business that it should have power over you who are a king? -Is business the name of your god whom all of you worship as the Sun God -is worshipped by my people?” - -He smiled at the almost perfect appositeness of her idea, saying: - -“It is the great American god. Also, is it a very terrible god, and when -it slays it slays terribly and swiftly.” - -“And you have incurred its displeasure?” she queried. - -“Alas, yes, though I know not how. I must go to Wall Street——” - -“Which is its altar?” she broke in to ask. - -“Which is its altar,” he answered, “and where I must find out wherein I -have offended and wherein I may placate and make amends.” - -His hurried attempt to explain to her the virtues and functions of the -maid he had wired for from Colon, scarcely interested her, and she broke -him off by saying that evidently the maid was similar to the Indian -women who had attended her in the Valley of Lost Souls, and that she had -been accustomed to personal service ever since she was a little girl -learning English and Spanish from her mother in the house on the lake. - -But when Francis caught up his hat and kissed her, she relented and -wished him luck before the altar. - -After several hours of amazing adventures in her own quarters, where the -maid, a Spanish-speaking Frenchwoman, acted as guide and mentor, and -after being variously measured and gloated over by a gorgeous woman who -seemed herself a queen and who was attended by two young women, and who, -in the Queen’s mind, was without doubt summoned to serve her and -Francis, she came back down the grand stairway to investigate the -library with its mysterious telephones and ticker. - -Long she gazed at the ticker and listened to its irregular chatter. But -she, who could read and write English and Spanish, could make nothing of -the strange hieroglyphics that grew miraculously on the tape. Next, she -explored the first of the telephones. Remembering how Francis had -listened, she put her ear to the transmitter. Then, recollecting his use -of the receiver, she took it off its hook and placed it to her ear. The -voice, unmistakably a woman’s, sounded so near to her that in her -startled surprise she dropped the receiver and recoiled. At this moment, -Parker, Francis’ old valet, chanced to enter the room. She had not -observed him before, and, so immaculate was his dress, so dignified his -carriage, that she mistook him for a friend of Francis rather than a -servitor——a friend similar to Bascom who had met them at the station -with Francis’ machine, ridden inside with them as an equal, yet departed -with Francis’ commands in his ears which it was patent he was to obey. - -At sight of Parker’s solemn face she laughed with embarrassment and -pointed inquiringly to the telephone. Solemnly he picked up the -receiver, murmured “A mistake,” into the transmitter, and hung up. In -those several seconds the Queen’s thought underwent revolution. No god’s -nor spirit’s voice had been that which she had heard, but a woman’s -voice. - -“Where is that woman?” she demanded. - -Parker merely stiffened up more stiffly, assumed a solemner expression, -and bowed. - -“There is a woman concealed in the house,” she charged with quick words. -“Her voice speaks there in that thing. She must be in the next room——” - -“It was Central,” Parker attempted to stem the flood of her utterance. - -“I care not what her name is,” the Queen dashed on. “I shall have no -other woman but myself in my house. Bid her begone. I am very angry.” - -Parker was even stiller and solemner, and a new mood came over her. -Perhaps this dignified gentleman was higher than she had suspected in -the hierarchy of the lesser kings, she thought. Almost might he be an -equal king with Francis, and she had treated him peremptorily as less, -as much less. - -She caught him by the hand, in her impetuousness noting his reluctance, -drew him over to a sofa, and made him sit beside her. To add to Parker’s -discomfiture, she dipped into a box of candy and began to feed him -chocolates, closing his mouth with the sweets every time he opened it to -protest. - -“Come,” she said, when she had almost choked him, “is it the custom of -the men of this country to be polygamous?” - -Parker was aghast at such rawness of frankness. - -“Oh, I know the meaning of the word,” she assured him. “So I repeat: is -it the custom of the men of this country to be polygamous?” - -“There is no woman in this house, besides yourself, madam, except -servant women,” he managed to enunciate. “That voice you heard is not -the voice of a woman in this house, but the voice of a woman miles away -who is your servant, or is anybody’s servant who desires to talk over -the telephone.” - -“She is the slave of the mystery?” the Queen questioned, beginning to -get a dim glimmer of the actuality of the matter. - -“Yes,” her husband’s valet admitted. “She is a slave of the telephone.” - -“Of the flying speech?” - -“Yes, madam, call it that, of the flying speech.” He was desperate to -escape from a situation unprecedented in his entire career. “Come, I -will show you, madam. This slave of the flying speech is yours to -command both by night and day. If you wish, the slave will enable you to -talk with your husband, Mr. Morgan——” - -“Now?” - -Parker nodded, arose, and led her to the telephone. - -“First of all,” he instructed, “you will speak to the slave. The instant -you take this down and put it to your ear, the slave will respond. It is -the slave’s invariable way of saying ‘Number?’ Sometimes she says it, -‘Number? Number?’ And sometimes she is very irritable. - -“When the slave has said ‘Number,’ then do you say ‘Eddystone 1292,’ -whereupon the slave will say ‘Eddystone 1292?’ and then you will say, -‘Yes, please——‘” - -“To a slave I shall say ‘please’?” she interrupted. - -“Yes, madam, for these slaves of the flying speech are peculiar slaves -that one never sees. I am not a young man, yet I have never seen a -Central in all my life.—Thus, next, after a moment, another slave, a -woman, who is miles away from the first one, will say to you, ‘This is -Eddystone 1292,’ and you will say, ‘I am Mrs. Morgan. I wish to speak -with Mr. Morgan, who is, I think, in Mr. Bascom’s private office.’ And -then you wait, maybe for half a minute, or for a minute, and then Mr. -Morgan will begin to talk to you.” - -“From miles and miles away?” - -“Yes, madam——just as if he were in the next room. And when Mr. Morgan -says ‘Good-bye,’ you will say ‘Good-bye,’ and hang up as you have seen -me do.” - -And all that Parker had told her came to pass as she carried out his -instructions. The two different slaves obeyed the magic of the number -she gave them, and Francis talked and laughed with her, begged her not -to be lonely, and promised to be home not later than five that -afternoon. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile, and throughout the day, Francis was a very busy and perturbed -man. - -“What secret enemy have you?” Bascom again and again demanded, while -Francis shook his head in futility of conjecture. - -“For see, except where your holdings are concerned, the market is -reasonable and right. But take your holdings. There’s Frisco -Consolidated. There is neither sense nor logic that it should be beared -this way. Only your holdings are being beared. New York, Vermont and -Connecticut, paid fifteen per cent. the last four quarters and is as -solid as Gibraltar. Yet it’s down, and down hard. The same with Montana -Lode, Death Valley Copper, Imperial Tungsten, Northwestern Electric. -Take Alaska Trodwell——as solid as the everlasting rock. The movement -against it started only yesterday late. It closed eight points down, and -to-day has slumped twice as much more. Every one, stock in which you are -heavily interested. And no other stocks involved. The rest of the market -is firm.” - -“So is Tampico Petroleum firm,” Francis said, “and I’m interested in it -heaviest of all.” - -Bascom shrugged his shoulders despairingly. - -“Are you sure you cannot think of somebody who is doing this and who may -be your enemy?” - -“Not for the life of me, Bascom. Can’t think of a soul. I haven’t made -any enemies, because, since my father died, I have not been active. -Tampico Petroleum is the only thing I ever got busy with, and even now -it’s all right.” He strolled over to the ticker. “There. Half a point up -for five hundred shares.” - -“Just the same, somebody’s after you,” Bascom assured him. “The thing is -clear as the sun at midday. I have been going over the reports of the -different stocks at issue. They are colored, artfully and delicately -colored, and the coloring matter is pessimistic and official. Why did -Northwestern Electric pass its dividend? Why did they put that black-eye -stuff into Mulhaney’s report on Montana Lode? Oh, never mind the rest of -the black-eying, but why all this activity of unloading? It’s clear. -There’s a raid on, and it seems on you, and it’s not a sudden rush raid. -It’s been slowly and steadily growing. And it’s ripe to break at the -first rumor of war, at a big strike, or a financial panic——at anything -that will bear the entire market. - -“Look at the situation you’re in now, when all holdings except your own -are normal. I’ve covered your margins, and covered them. A grave -proportion of your straight collateral is already up. And your margins -keep on shrinking. You can scarcely throw them overboard. It might start -a break. It’s too ticklish.” - -“There’s Tampico Petroleum, smiling as pretty as you please——it’s -collateral enough to cover everything,” Francis suggested. “Though I’ve -been chary of touching it,” he amended. - -Bascom shook his head. - -“There’s the Mexican revolution, and our own spineless administration. -If we involved Tampico Petroleum, and anything serious should break down -there, you’d be finished, cleaned out, broke. - -“And yet,” Bascom resumed, “I see no other way out than to use Tampico -Petroleum. You see, I have almost exhausted what you have placed in my -hands. And this is no whirlwind raid. It’s slow and steady as an -advancing glacier. I’ve only handled the market for you all these years, -and this is the first tight place we’ve got into. Now your general -business affairs? Collins has the handling and knows. You must know. -What securities can you let me have? Now? And to-morrow? And next week? -And the next three weeks?” - -“How much do you want?” Francis questioned back. - -“A million before closing time to-day.” Bascom pointed eloquently at the -ticker. “At least twenty million more in the next three weeks, if——and -mark you that _if_ well——if the world remains at peace, and if the -general market remains as normal as it has been for the past six -months.” - -Francis stood up with decision and reached for his hat. - -“I’m going to Collins at once. He knows far more about my outside -business than I know myself. I shall have at least the million in your -hands before closing time, and I’ve a shrewd suspicion that I’ll cover -the rest during the next several weeks.” - -“Remember,” Bascom warned him, as they shook hands, “it’s the very -slowness of this raid that is ominous. It’s directed against you, and -it’s no fly-by-night affair. Whoever is making it, is doing it big, and -must be big.” - - * * * * * - -Several times, late that afternoon and evening, the Queen was called up -by the slave of the flying speech and enabled to talk with her husband. -To her delight, in her own room, by her bedside, she found a telephone, -through which, by calling up Collins’ office, she gave her good night to -Francis. Also, she essayed to kiss her heart to him, and received back, -queer and vague of sound, his answering kiss. - -She knew not how long she had slept, when she awoke. Not moving, through -her half-open eyes she saw Francis peer into the room and across to her. -When he had gone softly away, she leapt out of bed and ran to the door -in time to see him start down the staircase. - -More trouble with the great god Business——was her surmise. He was going -down to that wonderful room, the library, to read more of the dread -god’s threats and warnings that were so mysteriously made to take form -of written speech to the clicking of the ticker. She looked at herself -in the mirror, adjusted her hair, and with a little love-smile of -anticipation on her lips put on a dressing-gown——another of the -marvelous pretties of Francis’ forethought and providing. - -At the entrance of the library she paused, hearing the voice of another -than Francis. At first thought she decided it was the flying speech, but -immediately afterward she knew it to be too loud and near and different. -Peeping in, she saw two men drawn up in big leather chairs near to each -other and facing. Francis, tired of face from the day’s exertions, still -wore his business suit; but the other was clad in evening dress. And she -heard him call her husband “Francis,” who, in turn, called him “Johnny.” -That, and the familiarity of their conversation, conveyed to her that -they were old, close friends. - -“And don’t tell me, Francis,” the other was saying, “that you’ve -frivoled through Panama all this while without losing your heart to the -senoritas a dozen times.” - -“Only once,” Francis replied, after a pause, in which the Queen noted -that he gazed steadily at his friend. - -“Further,” he went on, after another pause, “I really lost my heart——but -not my head. Johnny Pathmore, O Johnny Pathmore, you are a mere -flirtatious brute, but I tell you that you’ve lots to learn. I tell you -that in Panama I found the most wonderful woman in the world——a woman -that I was glad I had lived to know, a woman that I would gladly die -for; a woman of fire, of passion, of sweetness, of nobility, a very -queen of women.” - -And the Queen, listening and looking upon the intense exaltation of his -face, smiled with proud fondness and certitude to herself, for had she -not won a husband who remained a lover? - -“And did the lady, er——ah——did she reciprocate?” Johnny Pathmore -ventured. - -The Queen saw Francis nod as he solemnly replied. - -“She loves me as I love her——this I know in all absoluteness.” He stood -up suddenly. “Wait. I will show her to you.” - -And as he started toward the door, the Queen, in roguishness of a very -extreme of happiness at her husband’s confession she had overheard, fled -trippingly to hide in the wide doorway of a grand room which the maid -had informed her was the drawing room, whatever such room might be. -Deliciously imagining Francis’ surprise at not finding her in bed, she -watched him go up the wide marble staircase. In a few moments he -descended. With a slight chill at the heart she observed that he -betrayed no perturbation at not having found her. In his hand he carried -a scroll or roll of thin, white cardboard. Looking neither to right nor -left, he re-entered the library. - -Peeping in, she saw him unroll the scroll, present it before Johnny -Pathmore’s eyes, and heard him say: - -“Judge for yourself. There she is.” - -“But why be so funereal about it, old man?” Johnny Pathmore queried, -after a prolonged examination of the photograph. - -“Because we met too late. I was compelled to marry another. And I left -her forever just a few hours before she was to marry another, which -marriage had been compelled before either of us ever knew the other -existed. And the woman I married, please know, is a good and splendid -woman. She will have my devotion forever. Unfortunately, she will never -possess my heart.” - -In a great instant of revulsion, the entire truth came to the Queen. -Clutching at her heart with clasped hands, she nearly fainted of the -vertigo that assailed her. Although they still talked inside the -library, she heard no further word of their utterance as she strove with -slow success to draw herself together. Finally, with indrawn shoulders, -a little forlorn sort of a ghost of the resplendent woman and wife she -had been but minutes before, she staggered across the hall and slowly, -as if in a nightmare wherein speed never resides, dragged herself -upstairs. In her room, she lost all control. Francis’ ring was torn from -her finger and stamped upon. Her boudoir cap and her turtle-shell -hairpins joined the general havoc under her feet. Convulsed, shuddering, -muttering to herself in her extremity, she threw herself upon her bed -and only managed, in an ecstasy of anguish, to remain perfectly quiet -when Francis peeped in on his way to bed. - -An hour, that seemed a thousand centuries, she gave him to go to sleep. -Then she arose, took in hand the crude jeweled dagger which had been -hers in the Valley of the Lost Souls, and softly tiptoed into his room. -There on the dresser it was, the large photograph of Leoncia. In -thorough indecision, clutching the dagger until the cramp of her palm -and fingers hurt her, she debated between her husband and Leoncia. Once, -beside his bed, her hand raised to strike, an effusion of tears into her -dry eyes obscured her seeing so that her dagger-hand dropped as she -sobbed audibly. - -Stiffening herself with changed resolve, she crossed over to the -dresser. A pad and pencil lying handy, caught her attention. She -scribbled two words, tore off the sheet, and placed it upon the face of -Leoncia as it lay flat and upturned on the surface of polished wood. -Next, with an unerring drive of the dagger, she pinned the note between -the pictured semblance of Leoncia’s eyes, so that the point of the blade -penetrated the wood and left the haft quivering and upright. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - -Meanwhile, after the manner of cross purposes in New York, wherein Regan -craftily proceeded with his gigantic raid on all Francis’ holdings while -Francis and Bascom vainly strove to find his identity, so in Panama were -at work cross purposes which involved Leoncia and the Solanos, Torres -and the Jefe, and, not least in importance, one, Yi Poon, the rotund and -moon-faced Chinese. - -The little old judge, who was the Jefe’s creature, sat asleep in court -in San Antonio. He had slept placidly for two hours, occasionally -nodding his head and muttering profoundly, although the case was a grave -one, involving twenty years in San Juan, where the strongest could not -survive ten years. But there was no need for the judge to consider -evidence or argument. Before the case was called, decision and sentence -were in his mind, having been put there by the Jefe. The prisoner’s -lawyer ceased his perfunctory argument, the clerk of the court sneezed, -and the judge woke up. He looked about him briskly and said: - -“Guilty.” - -No one was surprised, not even the prisoner. - -“Appear to-morrow morning for sentence.——Next case.” - -Having so ordered, the judge prepared to settle down into another nap, -when he saw Torres and the Jefe enter the courtroom. A gleam in the -Jefe’s eye was his cue, and he abruptly dismissed court for the day. - -“I have been to Rodriguez Fernandez,” the Jefe was explaining five -minutes later, in the empty courtroom. “He says it was a natural gem, -and that much would be lost in the cutting, but that nevertheless he -would still give five hundred gold for it.——Show it to the judge, Senor -Torres, and the rest of the handful of big ones.” - -And Torres began to lie. He had to lie, because he could not confess the -shame of having had the gems taken away from him by the Solanos and the -Morgans when they threw him out of the hacienda. And so convincingly did -he lie that even the Jefe he convinced, while the judge, except in the -matter of brands of strong liquor, accepted everything the Jefe wanted -him to believe. In brief, shorn of the multitude of details that Torres -threw in, his tale was that he was so certain of the jeweler’s -under-appraisal that he had despatched the gems by special messenger to -his agent in Colon with instructions to forward to New York to Tiffany’s -for appraisement that might lead to sale. - -As they emerged from the courtroom and descended the several steps that -were flanked by single adobe pillars marred by bullet scars from -previous revolutions, the Jefe was saying: - -“And so, needing the ægis of the law for our adventure after these gems, -and, more than that, both of us loving our good friend the judge, we -will let him in for a modest share of whatever we shall gain. He shall -represent us in San Antonio while we are gone, and, if needs be, furnish -us with the law’s protection.” - -Now it happened that behind one of the pillars, hat pulled over his -face, Yi Poon half-sat, half-reclined. Nor was he there by mere -accident. Long ago he had learned that secrets of value, which always -connoted the troubles of humans, were markedly prevalent around -courtrooms, which were the focal points for the airing of such troubles -when they became acute. One could never tell. At any moment a secret -might leap at one or brim over to one. Therefore it was like a fisherman -casting his line into the sea for Yi Poon to watch the defendant and the -plaintiff, the witnesses for and against, and even the court hanger-on -or casual-seeming onlooker. - -So, on this morning, the one person of promise that Yi Poon had picked -out was a ragged old peon who looked as if he had been drinking too much -and yet would perish in his condition of reaction if he did not get -another drink very immediately. Bleary-eyed he was, and red-lidded, with -desperate resolve painted on all his haggard, withered lineaments. When -the courtroom had emptied, he had taken up his stand outside on the -steps close to a pillar. - -And why? Yi Poon had asked himself. Inside remained only the three chief -men of San Antonio——the Jefe, Torres, and the judge. What connection -between them, or any of them, and the drink-sodden creature that shook -as if freezing in the scorching blaze of the direct sun-rays? Yi Poon -did not know, but he did know that it was worth while waiting on a -chance, no matter how remote, of finding out. So, behind the pillar, -where no atom of shade protected him from the cooking sun which he -detested, he lolled on the steps with all the impersonation of one -placidly infatuated with sun-baths. The old peon tottered a step, swayed -as if about to fall, yet managed to deflect Torres from his companions, -who paused to wait for him on the pavement a dozen paces on, restless -and hot-footed as if they stood on a grid, though deep in earnest -conversation. And Yi Poon missed no word nor gesture, nor glint of eye -nor shifting face-line, of the dialogue that took place between the -grand Torres and the wreck of a peon. - -“What now?” Torres demanded harshly. - -“Money, a little money, for the love of God, senor, a little money,” the -ancient peon whined. - -“You have had your money,” Torres snarled. “When I went away I gave you -double the amount to last you twice as long. Not for two weeks yet is -there a centavo due you.” - -“I am in debt,” was the old man’s whimper, the while all the flesh of -him quivered and trembled from the nerve-ravishment of the drink so -palpably recently consumed. - -“On the pulque slate at Peter and Paul’s,” Torres, with a sneer, -diagnosed unerringly. - -“On the pulque slate at Peter and Paul’s,” was the frank acknowledgment. -“And the slate is full. No more pulque can I get credit for. I am -wretched and suffer a thousand torments without my pulque.” - -“You are a pig creature without reason!” - -A strange dignity, as of wisdom beyond wisdom, seemed suddenly to -animate the old wreck as he straightened up, for the nonce ceased from -trembling, and gravely said: - -“I am old. There is no vigor left in the veins or the heart of me. The -desires of my youth are gone. Not even may I labor with this broken body -of mine, though well I know that labor is an easement and a forgetting. -Not even may I labor and forget. Food is a distaste in my mouth and a -pain in my belly. Women—they are a pest that it is a vexation to -remember ever having desired. Children—I buried my last a dozen years -gone. Religion—it frightens me. Death—I sleep with the terror of it. -Pulque—ah, dear God! the one tickle and taste of living left to me! - -“What if I drink over much? It is because I have much to forget, and -have but a little space yet to linger in the sun, ere the Darkness, for -my old eyes, blots out the sun forever.” - -Impervious to the old man’s philosophy, Torres made an impatient threat -of movement that he was going. - -“A few pesos, just a handful of pesos,” the old peon pleaded. - -“Not a centavo,” Torres said with finality. - -“Very well,” said the old man with equal finality. - -“What do you mean?” Torres rasped with swift suspicion. - -“Have you forgotten?” was the retort, with such emphasis of significance -as to make Yi Poon wonder for what reason Torres gave the peon what -seemed a pension or an allowance. - -“I pay you, according to agreement, to forget,” said Torres. - -“I shall never forget that my old eyes saw you stab the Senor Alfaro -Solano in the back,” the peon replied. - -Although he remained hidden and motionless in his posture of repose -behind the pillar, Yi Poon metaphorically sat up. The Solanos were -persons of place and wealth. That Torres should have murdered one of -them was indeed a secret of price. - -“Beast! Pig without reason! Animal of the dirt!” Torres’ hands clenched -in his rage. “Because I am kind do you treat me thus! One blabbing of -your tongue and I will send you to San Juan. You know what that means. -Not only will you sleep with the terror of death, but never for a moment -of waking will you be free of the terror of living as you stare upon the -buzzards that will surely and shortly pick your bones. And there will be -no pulque in San Juan. There is never any pulque in San Juan for the men -I send there. So? Eh? I thought so. You will wait two weeks for the -proper time when I shall again give you money. If you do not wait, then -never, this side of your interment in the bellies of buzzards, will you -drink pulque again.” - -Torres whirled on his heel and was gone. Yi Poon watched him and his two -companions go down the street, then rounded the pillar to find the old -peon sunk down in collapse at his disappointment of not getting any -pulque, groaning and moaning and making sharp little yelping cries, his -body quivering as dying animals quiver in the final throes, his fingers -picking at his flesh and garments as if picking off centipedes. Down -beside him sat Yi Poon, who began a remarkable performance of his own. -Drawing gold coins and silver ones from his pockets he began to count -over his money with chink and clink that was mellow and liquid and that -to the distraught peon’s ear was as the sound of the rippling and -riffling of fountains of pulque. - -“We are wise,” Yi Poon told him in grandiloquent Spanish, still clinking -the money, while the peon whined and yammered for the few centavos -necessary for one drink of pulque. “We are wise, you and I, old man, and -we will sit here and tell each other what we know about men and women, -and life and love, and anger and sudden death, the rage red in the heart -and the steel bitter cold in the back; and if you tell me what pleases -me, then shall you drink pulque till your ears run out with it, and your -eyes are drowned in it. You like that pulque, eh? You like one drink -now, _now_, soon, very quick?” - - * * * * * - -The night, while the Jefe Politico and Torres organized their expedition -under cover of the dark, was destined to be a momentous one in the -Solano hacienda. Things began to happen early. Dinner over, drinking -their coffee and smoking their cigarettes, the family, of which Henry -was accounted one by virtue of his brotherhood to Leoncia, sat on the -wide front veranda. Through the moonlight, up the steps, they saw a -strange figure approach. - -“It is like a ghost,” said Alvarado Solano. - -“A fat ghost,” Martinez, his twin brother, amended. - -“A Chink ghost you couldn’t poke your finger through,” Ricardo laughed. - -“The very Chink who saved Leoncia and me from marrying,” said Henry -Morgan, with recognition. - -“The seller of secrets,” Leoncia gurgled. “And if he hasn’t brought a -new secret, I shall be disappointed.” - -“What do you want, Chinaman?” Alesandro, the eldest of the Solano -brothers, demanded sharply. - -“Nice new secret, very nice new secret maybe you buy,” Yi Poon murmured -proudly. - -“Your secrets are too expensive, Chinaman,” said Enrico discouragingly. - -“This nice new secret very expensive,” Yi Poon assured him complacently. - -“Go away,” old Enrico ordered. “I shall live a long time, yet to the day -of my death I care to hear no more secrets.” - -But Yi Poon was suavely certain of himself. - -“One time you have very fine brother,” he said. “One time your very fine -brother, the Senor Alfaro Solano, die with knife in his back. Very well. -Some secret, eh?” - -But Enrico was on his feet quivering. - -“You know?” he almost screamed his eager interrogation. - -“How much?” said Yi Poon. - -“All I possess!” Enrico cried, ere turning to Alesandro to add: “You -deal with him, son. Pay him well if he can prove by witness of the eye.” - -“You bet,” quoth Yi Poon. “I got witness. He got good eye-sight. He see -man stick knife in the Senor Alfaro’s back in the dark. His name ...” - -“Yes, yes,” Enrico breathed his suspense. - -“One thousand dollars his name,” said Yi Poon, hesitating to make up his -mind to what kind of dollars he could dare to claim. “One thousand -dollars gold,” he concluded. - -Enrico forgot that he had deputed the transaction to his eldest son. - -“Where is your witness?” he shouted. - -And Yi Poon, calling softly down the steps into the shrubbery, evoked -the pulque-ravaged peon, a real-looking ghost who slowly advanced and -tottered up the steps. - - * * * * * - -At the same time, on the edge of town, twenty mounted men, among whom -were the gendarmes Rafael, Ignacio, Augustino, and Vicente, herded a -pack train of more than twenty mules and waited the command of the Jefe -to depart on they knew not what mysterious adventure into the -Cordilleras. What they did know was that, herded carefully apart from -all other animals, was a strapping big mule loaded with two hundred and -fifty pounds of dynamite. Also, they knew that the delay was due to the -Senor Torres, who had ridden away along the beach with the dreaded Caroo -murderer, José Mancheno, who, only by the grace of God and of the Jefe -Politico, had been kept for years from expiating on the scaffold his -various offenses against life and law. - -And, while Torres waited on the beach and held the Caroo’s horse and an -extra horse, the Caroo ascended on foot the winding road that led to the -hacienda of the Solanos. Little did Torres guess that twenty feet away, -in the jungle that encroached on the beach, lay a placid-sleeping, -pulque-drunken, old peon, with, crouching beside him, a very alert and -very sober Chinese with a recently acquired thousand dollars stowed -under his belt. Yi Poon had had barely time to drag the peon into hiding -when Torres rode along in the sand and stopped almost beside him. - -Up at the hacienda, all members of the household were going to bed. -Leoncia, just starting to let down her hair, stopped when she heard the -rattle of tiny pebbles against her windows. Warning her in low whispers -to make no noise, José Mancheno handed her a crumpled note which Torres -had written, saying mysteriously: - -“From a strange Chinaman who waits not a hundred feet away on the edge -of the shrubbery.” - -And Leoncia read, in execrable Spanish: - - “First time, I tell you secret about Henry Morgan. This time I have - secret about Francis. You come along and talk with me now.” - -Leoncia’s heart leaped at mention of Francis, and as she slipped on a -mantle and accompanied the Caroo it never entered her head to doubt that -Yi Poon was waiting for her. - -And Yi Poon, down on the beach and spying upon Torres, had no doubts -when he saw the Caroo murderer appear with the Solano senorita, bound -and gagged, slung across his shoulder like a sack of meal. Nor did Yi -Poon have any doubts about his next action, when he saw Leoncia tied -into the saddle of the spare horse and taken away down the beach at a -gallop, with Torres and the Caroo riding on either side of her. Leaving -the pulque-sodden peon to sleep, the fat Chinaman took the road up the -hill at so stiff a pace that he arrived breathless at the hacienda. Not -content with knocking at the door, he beat upon it with his fists and -feet and prayed to his Chinese gods that no peevish Solano should take a -shot at him before he could explain the urgency of his errand. - -“O go to hell,” Alesandro said, when he had opened the door and flashed -a light on the face of the importunate caller. - -“I have big secret,” Yi Poon panted. “Very big brand new secret.” - -“Come around to-morrow in business hours,” Alesandro growled as he -prepared to kick the Chinaman off the premises. - -“I don’t sell secret,” Yi Poon stammered and gasped. “I make you -present. I give secret now. The Senorita, your sister, she is stolen. -She is tied upon a horse that runs fast down the beach.” - -But Alesandro, who had said good night to Leoncia, not half an hour -before, laughed loudly his unbelief, and prepared again to boot off the -trafficker in secrets. Yi Poon was desperate. He drew forth the thousand -dollars and placed it in Alesandro’s hand, saying: - -“You go look quick. If the Senorita stop in this house now, you keep all -that money. If the Senorita no stop, then you give money back....” - -And Alesandro was convinced. A minute later he was rousing the house. -Five minutes later the horse-peons, their eyes hardly open from sound -sleep, were roping and saddling horses and pack-mules in the corrals, -while the Solano tribe was pulling on riding gear and equipping itself -with weapons. - - * * * * * - -Up and down the coast, and on the various paths leading back to the -Cordilleras, the Solanos scattered, questing blindly in the blind dark -for the trail of the abductors. As chance would have it, thirty hours -afterward, Henry alone caught the scent and followed it, so that, camped -in the very Footstep of God where first the old Maya priest had sighted -the eyes of Chia, he found the entire party of twenty men and Leoncia -cooking and eating breakfast. Twenty to one, never fair and always -impossible, did not appeal to Henry Morgan’s Anglo-Saxon mind. What did -appeal to him was the dynamite-loaded mule, tethered apart from the -off-saddled forty-odd animals and left to stand by the careless peons -with its load still on its back. Instead of attempting the patently -impossible rescue of Leoncia, and recognising that in numbers her -woman’s safety lay, he stole the dynamite-mule. - -Not far did he take it. In the shelter of the low woods, he opened the -pack and filled all his pockets with sticks of dynamite, a box of -detonators, and a short coil of fuse. With a regretful look at the rest -of the dynamite which he would have liked to explode but dared not, he -busied himself along the line of retreat he would have to take if he -succeeded in stealing Leoncia from her captors. As Francis, on a -previous occasion at Juchitan, had sown the retreat with silver dollars, -so, this time, did Henry sow the retreat with dynamite——the sticks in -small bundles and the fuses, no longer than the length of a detonator, -and with detonators fast to each end. - - * * * * * - -Three hours Henry devoted to lurking around the camp in the Footstep of -God, ere he got his opportunity to signal his presence to Leoncia; and -another precious two hours were wasted ere she found her opportunity to -steal away to him. Which would not have been so bad, had not her escape -almost immediately been discovered and had not the gendarmes and the -rest of Torres’ party, mounted, been able swiftly to overtake them on -foot. - -When Henry drew Leoncia down to hide beside him in the shelter of a -rock, and at the same time brought his rifle into action ready for play, -she protested. - -“We haven’t a chance, Henry,” she said. “They are too many. If you fight -you will be killed. And then what will become of me? Better that you -make your own escape, and bring help, leaving me to be retaken, than -that you die and let me be retaken anyway.” - -But he shook his head. - -“We are not going to be taken, dearest sister. Put your trust in me and -watch. Here they come now. You just watch.” - -Variously mounted, on horses and pack mules—whichever had come handiest -in their haste—Torres, the Jefe, and their men clattered into sight. -Henry drew a sight, not on them, but on the point somewhat nearer where -he had made his first plant of dynamite. When he pulled trigger, the -intervening distance rose up in a cloud of smoke and earth dust that -obscured them. As the cloud slowly dissipated, they could be seen, half -of them, animals and men, overthrown, and all of them dazed and shocked -by the explosion. - -Henry seized Leoncia’s hand, jerked her to her feet, and ran on side by -side with her. Conveniently beyond his second planting, he drew her down -beside him to rest and catch breath. - -“They won’t come on so fast this time,” he hissed exultantly. “And the -longer they pursue us the slower they’ll come on.” - -True to his forecast, when the pursuit appeared, it moved very -cautiously and very slowly. - -“They ought to be killed,” Henry said. “But they have no chance, and I -haven’t the heart to do it. But I’ll surely shake them up some.” - -Again he fired into his planted dynamite, and again, turning his back on -the confusion, he fled to his third planting. - -After he had fired off the third explosion, he raced Leoncia to his -tethered horse, put her in the saddle, and ran on beside her, hanging on -to her stirrup. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - -Francis had left orders for Parker to call him at eight o’clock, and -when Parker softly entered he found his master still asleep. Turning on -the water in the bathroom and preparing the shaving gear, the valet -re-entered the bedroom. Still moving softly about so that his master -would have the advantage of the last possible second of sleep, Parker’s -eyes lighted on the strange dagger that stood upright, its point pinning -through a note and a photograph and into the hard wood of the -dresser-top. For a long time he gazed at the strange array, then, -without hesitation, carefully opened the door to Mrs. Morgan’s room and -peeped in. Next, he firmly shook Francis by the shoulder. - -The latter’s eyes opened, for a second betraying the incomprehension of -the sleeper suddenly awakened, then lighting with recognition and memory -of the waking order he had left the previous night. - -“Time to get up, sir,” the valet murmured. - -“Which is ever an ill time,” Francis yawned with a smile. - -He closed his eyes with a, “Let me lie a minute, Parker. If I doze, -shake me.” - -But Parker shook him immediately. - -“You must get up right away, sir. I think something has happened to Mrs. -Morgan. She is not in her room, and there is a queer note and a knife -here that may explain. I don’t know, sir——” - -Francis was out of bed in a bound, staring one moment at the dagger, and -next, drawing it out, reading the note over and over as if its simple -meaning, contained in two simple words, were too abstruse for his -comprehension. - -“Adios forever,” said the note. - -What shocked him even more, was the dagger thrust between Leoncia’s -eyes, and, as he stared at the wound made in the thin cardboard, it came -to him that he had seen this very thing before, and he remembered back -to the lake-dwelling of the Queen when all had gazed into the golden -bowl and seen variously, and when he had seen Leoncia’s face on the -strange liquid metal with the knife thrust between the eyes. He even put -the dagger back into the cardboard wound and stared at it some more. - -The explanation was obvious. The Queen had betrayed jealousy against -Leoncia from the first, and here, in New York, finding her rival’s -photograph on her husband’s dresser, had no more missed the true -conclusion than had she missed the pictured features with her point of -steel. But where was she? Where had she gone?——she who was the veriest -stranger that had ever entered the great city, who called the telephone -the magic of the flying speech, who thought of Wall Street as a temple, -and regarded Business as the New York man’s god. For all the world she -was as unsophisticated and innocent of a great city as had she been a -traveler from Mars. Where and how had she passed the night? Where was -she now? Was she even alive? - -Visions of the Morgue with its unidentified dead, and of bodies drifting -out to sea on the ebb, rushed into his brain. It was Parker who steadied -him back to himself. - -“Is there anything I can do, sir? Shall I call up the detective bureau? -Your father always——” - -“Yes, yes,” Francis interrupted quickly. “There was one man he employed -more than all others, a young man with the Pinkertons——do you remember -his name?” - -“Birchman, sir,” Parker answered promptly, moving away. “I shall send -for him to come at once.” - -And thereupon, in the quest after his wife, Francis entered upon a -series of adventures that were to him, a born New Yorker, a liberal -education in conditions and phases of New York of which, up to that -time, he had been profoundly ignorant. Not alone did Birchman search, -but he had at work a score of detectives under him who fine-tooth-combed -the city, while in Chicago and Boston, he directed the activities of -similar men. - -Between his battle with the unguessed enemy of Wall Street, and the -frequent calls he received to go here and there and everywhere, on the -spur of the moment, to identify what might possibly be his wife, Francis -led anything but a boresome existence. He forgot what regular hours of -sleep were, and grew accustomed to being dragged from luncheon or -dinner, or of being routed out of his bed, to respond to hurry calls to -come and look over new-found missing ladies. No trace of one answering -her description, who had left the city by train or steamer had been -discovered, and Birchman assiduously pursued his fine-tooth combing, -convinced that she was still in the city. - -Thus, Francis took trips to Mattenwan and down Blackwell’s, and the -Tombs and the All-Night court knew his presence. Nor did he escape being -dragged to countless hospitals nor to the Morgue. Once, a fresh-caught -shoplifter, of whom there was no criminal record and to whom there was -no clew of identity, was brought to his notice. He had adventures with -mysterious women cornered by Birchman’s satellites in the back rooms of -Raines’ Hotels, and, on the West Side, in the Fifties, was guilty of -trespassing upon two comparatively innocent love-idyls, to the -embarrassment of all concerned including himself. - -Perhaps his most interesting and tragic adventure was in the -ten-million-dollar mansion of Philip January, the Telluride mining king. -The strange woman, a lady slender, had wandered in upon the Januarys a -week before, ere Francis came to see her. And, as she had -heartbreakingly done for the entire week, so she heartbreakingly did for -Francis, wringing her hands, perpetually weeping, and murmuring -beseechingly: “Otho, you are wrong. On my knees I tell you you are -wrong. Otho, you, and you only, do I love. There is no one but you, -Otho. There has never been any one but you. It is all a dreadful -mistake. Believe me, Otho, believe me, or I shall die....” - -And through it all, the Wall Street battle went on against the -undiscoverable and powerful enemy who had launched what Francis and -Bascom could not avoid acknowledging was a catastrophic, -war-to-the-death raid on his fortune. - -“If only we can avoid throwing Tampico Petroleum into the whirlpool,” -Bascom prayed. - -“I look to Tampico Petroleum to save me,” Francis replied. “When every -security I can lay hand to has been engulfed, then, throwing in Tampico -Petroleum will be like the eruption of a new army upon a losing field.” - -“And suppose your unknown foe is powerful enough to swallow down that -final, splendid asset and clamor for more?” Bascom queried. - -Francis shrugged his shoulders. - -“Then I shall be broke. But my father went broke half a dozen times -before he won out. Also was he born broke. I should worry about a little -thing like that.” - -For a time, in the Solano hacienda, events had been moving slowly. In -fact, following upon the rescue of Leoncia by Henry along his -dynamite-sown trail, there had been no events. Not even had Yi Poon -appeared with a perfectly fresh and entirely brand new secret to sell. -Nothing had happened, save that Leoncia drooped and was apathetic, that -neither Enrico nor Henry, her full brother, nor her Solano brothers who -were not her brothers at all, could cheer her. - -But, while Leoncia drooped, Henry and the tall sons of Enrico worried -and perplexed themselves about the treasure in the Valley of the Lost -Souls, into which Torres was even then dynamiting his way. One thing -they did know, namely, that the Torres’ expedition had sent Augustino -and Vicente back to San Antonio to get two more mule-loads of dynamite. - -It was Henry, after conferring with Enrico and obtaining his permission, -who broached the matter to Leoncia. - -“Sweet sister,” had been his way, “we’re going to go up and see what the -scoundrel Torres and his gang are doing. We do know, thanks to you, -their objective. The dynamite is to blow an entrance into the Valley. We -know where the Lady Who Dreams sank her treasure when her house burned. -Torres does not know this. The idea is that we can follow them into the -Valley, when they have drained the Maya caves, and have as good a -chance, if not a better chance than they in getting possession of that -marvelous chest of gems. And the very tip of the point is that we’d like -to take you along on the expedition. I fancy, if we managed to get the -treasure ourselves, that you wouldn’t mind repeating that journey down -the subterranean river.” - -But Leoncia shook her head wearily. - -“No,” she said, after further urging. “I never want to see the Valley of -the Lost Souls again, nor ever to hear it mentioned. There is where I -lost Francis to that woman.” - -“It was all a mistake, darling sister. But who was to know? I did not. -You did not. Nor did Francis. He played the man’s part fairly and -squarely. Not knowing that you and I were brother and sister, believing -that we were truly betrothed——as we were at the time——he refrained from -trying to win you from me, and he rendered further temptation impossible -and saved the lives of all of us by marrying the Queen.” - -“I miss you and Francis singing your everlasting ‘Back to back against -the mainmast,’” she murmured sadly and irrelevantly. - -Quiet tears welled into her eyes and brimmed over as she turned away, -passed down the steps of the veranda, crossed the grounds, and aimlessly -descended the hill. For the twentieth time since she had last seen -Francis she pursued the same course, covering the same ground from the -time she first espied him rowing to the beach from the _Angelique_, -through her dragging him into the jungle to save him from her irate -menfolk, to the moment, with drawn revolver, when she had kissed him and -urged him into the boat and away. This had been his first visit. - -Next, she covered every detail of his second visit from the moment, -coming from behind the rock after her swim in the lagoon, she had gazed -upon him leaning against the rock as he scribbled his first note to her, -through her startled flight into the jungle, the bite on her knee of the -labarri (which she had mistaken for a deadly viperine), to her recoiling -collision against Francis and her faint on the sand. And, under her -parasol, she sat down on the very spot where she had fainted and come -to, to find him preparing to suck the poison from the wound which he had -already excoriated. As she remembered back, she realized that it had -been the pain of the excoriation which brought her to her senses. - -Deep she was in the sweet recollections of how she had slapped his cheek -even as his lips approached her knee, blushed with her face hidden in -her hands, laughed because her foot had been made asleep by his -too-efficient tourniquet, turned white with anger when he reminded her -that she considered him the murderer of her uncle, and repulsed his -offer to untie the tourniquet. So deep was she in such fond -recollections of only the other day that yet seemed separated from the -present by half a century, such was the wealth of episode, adventure, -and tender passages which had intervened, that she did not see the -rattletrap rented carriage from San Antonio drive up the beach road. Nor -did she see a lady, fashionably clad in advertisement that she was from -New York, dismiss the carriage and proceed toward her on foot. This -lady, who was none other than the Queen, Francis’ wife, likewise -sheltered herself beneath a parasol from the tropic sun. - -Standing directly behind Leoncia, she did not realize that she had -surprised the girl in a moment of high renunciation. All that she did -know was that she saw Leoncia draw from her breast and gaze long at a -tiny photograph. Over her shoulder the Queen made it out to be a -snapshot of Francis, whereupon her mad jealousy raged anew. A poniard -flashed to her hand from its sheath within the bosom of her dress. The -quickness of this movement was sufficient to warn Leoncia, who tilted -her parasol forward so as to look up at whatever person stood at her -back. Too utterly dreary even to feel surprise, she greeted the wife of -Francis Morgan as casually as if she had parted from her an hour before. -Even the poniard failed to arouse in her curiosity or fear. Perhaps, had -she displayed startlement and fear, the Queen might have driven the -steel home to her. As it was, she could only cry out. - -“You are a vile woman! A vile, vile woman!” - -To which Leoncia merely shrugged her shoulders, and said: - -“You would better keep your parasol between you and the sun.” - -The Queen passed round in front of her, facing her and staring down at -her with woman’s wrath compounded of such jealousy as to be speechless. - -“Why?” Leoncia was the first to speak, after a long pause. “Why am I a -vile woman?” - -“Because you are a thief,” the Queen flamed. “Because you are a stealer -of men, yourself married. Because you are unfaithful to your husband——in -heart, at least, since more than that has so far been impossible.” - -“I have no husband,” Leoncia answered quietly. - -“Husband to be, then——I thought you were to be married the day after our -departure.” - -“I have no husband to be,” Leoncia continued with the same quietness. - -So swiftly tense did the other woman become that Leoncia idly thought of -her as a tigress. - -“Henry Morgan!” the Queen cried. - -“He is my brother.” - -“A word which I have discovered is of wide meaning, Leoncia Solano. In -New York there are worshippers at certain altars who call all men in the -world ‘brothers,’ all women ‘sisters.’” - -“His father was my father,” Leoncia explained with patient explicitness. -“His mother was my mother. We are full brother and sister.” - -“And Francis?” the other queried, convinced, with sudden access of -interest. “Are you, too, his sister?” - -Leoncia shook her head. - -“Then you do love Francis!” the Queen charged, smarting with -disappointment. - -“You have him,” said Leoncia. - -“No; for you have taken him from me.” - -Leoncia slowly and sadly shook her head and sadly gazed out over the -heat-shimmering surface of Chiriqui Lagoon. - -After a long lapse of silence, she said, wearily, “Believe that. Believe -anything.” - -“I divined it in you from the first,” the Queen cried. “You have a -strange power over men. I am a woman not unbeautiful. Since I have been -out in the world I have watched the eyes of men looking at me. I know I -am not all undesirable. Even have the wretched males of my Lost Valley -with downcast eyes looked love at me. One dared more than look, and he -died for me, or because of me, and was flung into the whirl of waters to -his fate. And yet you, with this woman’s power of yours, strangely -exercise it over my Francis so that in my very arms he thinks of you. I -know it. I know that even then he thinks of you!” - -Her last words were the cry of a passion-stricken and breaking heart. -And the next moment, though very little to Leoncia’s surprise, being too -hopelessly apathetic to be surprised at anything, the Queen dropped her -knife in the sand and sank down, buried her face in her hands, and -surrendered to the weakness of hysteric grief. Almost idly, and quite -mechanically, Leoncia put her arm around her and comforted her. For many -minutes this continued, when the Queen, growing more calm, spoke with -sudden determination. - -“I left Francis the moment I knew he loved you,” she said. “I drove my -knife into the photograph of you he keeps in his bedroom, and returned -here to do the same to you in person. But I was wrong. It is not your -fault, nor Francis’. It is my fault that I have failed to win his love. -Not you, but I it is who must die. But first, I must go back to my -valley and recover my treasure. In the temple called Wall Street, -Francis is in great trouble. His fortune may be taken away from him, and -he requires another fortune to save his fortune. I have that fortune, -and there is no time to lose. Will you and yours help me? It is for -Francis’ sake.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - -So it came about that the Valley of the Lost Souls was invaded -subterraneously from opposite directions by two parties of -treasure-seekers. From one side, and quickly, came the Queen and -Leoncia, Henry Morgan, and the Solanos. Far more slowly, although they -had started long in advance, did Torres and the Jefe progress. The first -attack on the mountain had proved the chiefest obstacle. To blow open an -entrance to the Maya caves had required more dynamite than they had -originally brought, while the rock had proved stubborner than they -expected. Further, when they had finally made a way, it had proved to be -above the cave floor, so that more blasting had been required to drain -off the water. And, having blasted their way in to the water-logged -mummies of the conquistadores and to the Room of the Idols, they had to -blast their way out again and on into the heart of the mountain. But -first, ere they continued on, Torres looted the ruby eyes of Chia and -the emerald eyes of Hzatzl. - -Meanwhile, with scarcely any delays, the Queen and her party penetrated -to the Valley through the mountain on the opposite side. Nor did they -entirely duplicate the course of their earlier traverse. The Queen, -through long gazing into her Mirror, knew every inch of the way. Where -the underground river plunged through the passage and out into the bosom -of the Gualaca River it was impossible to take in their boats. But, by -assiduous search under her directions, they found the tiny mouth of a -cave on the steep wall of the cliff, so shielded by a growth of mountain -berries that only by knowing for what they sought could they have found -it. By main strength, applied to the coils of rope which they had -brought along, they hoisted their canoes up the cliff, portaged them on -their shoulders through the winding passage, and launched them on the -subterranean river itself where it ran so broadly and placidly between -wide banks that they paddled easily against its slack current. At other -times, where the river proved too swift, they lined the canoes up by -towing from the bank; and wherever the river made a plunge through the -solid tie-ribs of mountain, the Queen showed them the obviously hewn and -patently ancient passages through which to portage their light crafts -around. - -“Here we leave the canoes,” the Queen directed at last, and the men -began securely mooring them to the bank in the light of the flickering -torches. “It is but a short distance through the last passage. Then we -will come to a small opening in the cliff, shielded by climbing vines -and ferns, and look down upon the spot where my house once stood beside -the whirl of waters. The ropes will be necessary in order to descend the -cliff, but it is only about fifty feet.” - -Henry, with an electric torch, led the way, the Queen beside him, while -old Enrico and Leoncia brought up the rear, vigilant to see that no -possible half-hearted peon or Indian boatman should slip back and run -away. But when the party came to where the mouth of the passage ought to -have been, there was no mouth. The passage ceased, being blocked off -solidly from floor to roof by a debris of crumbled rocks that varied in -size from paving stones to native houses. - -“Who could have done this?” the Queen exclaimed angrily. - -But Henry, after a cursory examination, reassured her. - -“It’s just a slide of rock,” he said, “a superficial fault in the outer -skin of the mountain that has slipped; and it won’t take us long with -our dynamite to remedy it. Lucky we fetched a supply along.” - -But it did take long. For what was the remainder of the day and -throughout the night they toiled. Large charges of explosive were not -used because of Henry’s fear of exciting a greater slip along the fault -overhead. What dynamite was used was for the purpose of loosening up the -rubble so that they could shift it back along the passage. At eight the -following morning the charge was exploded that opened up to them the -first glimmer of daylight ahead. After that they worked carefully, being -apprehensive of jarring down fresh slides. At the last, they were -baffled by a ten-ton block of rock in the very mouth of the passage. -Through crevices on either side of it they could squeeze their arms into -the blazing sunshine, yet the stone-block thwarted them. No leverage -they applied could more than quiver it, and Henry decided on one final -blast that would topple it out and down into the Valley. - -“They’ll certainly know visitors are coming, the way we’ve been knocking -on their back door for the last fifteen hours,” he laughed, as he -prepared to light the fuse. - - * * * * * - -Assembled before the altar of the Sun God at the Long House, the entire -population was indeed aware, and anxiously aware, of the coming of -visitors. So disastrous had been their experiences with their last ones, -when the lake dwelling had been burned and their Queen lost to them, -that they were now begging the Sun God to send no more visitors. But -upon one thing, having been passionately harangued by their priest, they -were resolved; namely, to kill at sight and without parley whatever -newcomers did descend upon them. - -“Even Da Vasco himself,” the priest had cried. - -“Even Da Vasco!” the Lost Souls had responded. - -All were armed with spears, war-clubs, and bows and arrows; and while -they waited they continued to pray before the altar. Every few minutes -runners arrived from the lake, making the same reports that while the -mountain still labored thunderously nothing had emerged from it. - -The little girl of ten, the Maid of the Long House who had entertained -Leoncia, was the first to spy out new arrivals. This was made possible -because of the tribe’s attention being fixed on the rumbling mountain -beside the lake. No one expected visitors out of the mountain on the -opposite side of the valley. - -“Da Vasco!” she cried. “Da Vasco!” - -All looked and saw, not fifty yards away, Torres, the Jefe, and their -gang of followers, emerging into the open clearing. Torres wore again -the helmet he had filched from his withered ancestor in the Chamber of -the Mummies. Their greeting was instant and warm, taking the form of a -flight of arrows that arched into them and stretched two of the -followers on the ground. Next, the Lost Souls, men and women, charged; -while the rifles of Torres’ men began to speak. So unexpected was this -charge, so swiftly made and with so short a distance to cover, that, -though many fell before the bullets, a number reached the invaders and -engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand conflict. Here the advantage of -firearms was minimized, and gendarmes and others were thrust through by -spears or had their skulls cracked under the ponderous clubs. - -In the end, however, the Lost Souls were outfought, thanks chiefly to -the revolvers that could kill in the thickest of the scuffling. The -survivors fled, but of the invaders half were down and down forever. The -women having in drastic fashion attended to every man who fell wounded. -The Jefe was spluttering with pain and rage at an arrow which had -perforated his arm; nor could he be appeased until Vicente cut off the -barbed head and pulled out the shaft. - -Torres, beyond an aching shoulder where a club had hit him, was -uninjured; and he became jubilant when he saw the old priest dying on -the ground with his head resting on the little maid’s knees. - -Since there were no wounded of their own to be attended to with rough -and ready surgery, Torres and the Jefe led the way to the lake, skirted -its shores, and came to the ruins of the Queen’s dwelling. Only charred -stumps of piles, projecting above the water, showed where it had once -stood. Torres was nonplussed, but the Jefe was furious. - -“Here, right in this house that was, the treasure chest stood,” he -stammered. - -“A wild goose chase!” the Jefe grunted. “Senor Torres, I always -suspected you were a fool.” - -“How was I to know the place had been burned down?” - -“You ought to have known, you who are so very wise in all things,” the -Jefe bickered back. “But you can’t fool me. I had my eye on you. I saw -you rob the emeralds and rubies from the eye-sockets of the Maya gods. -That much you shall divide with me, and now.” - -“Wait, wait, be a trifle patient,” Torres begged. “Let us first -investigate. Of course, I shall divide the four gems with you——but what -are they compared with a whole chest-full? It was a light, fragile -house. The chest may have fallen into the water undamaged by fire when -the roof fell in. And water will not damage precious stones.” - -In amongst the burnt piling the Jefe sent his men to investigate, and -they waded and swam about in the shoal water, being careful to avoid -being caught by the outlying suck of the whirlpool. Augustino, the -Silent, made the find, close in to shore. - -“I am standing on something,” he announced, the level of the lake barely -to his knees. - -Torres plunged in, and, reaching under till he buried his head and -shoulders, felt out the object. - -“It is the chest, I am certain,” he declared. “—Come! All of you! Drag -this out to the dry land so that we may examine into it!” - -But when this was accomplished, and just as he bent to open the lid, the -Jefe stopped him. - -“Go back into the water, the lot of you,” he commanded his men. “There -are a number of chests like this, and the expedition will be a failure -if we don’t find them. One chest would not pay the expenses.” - -Not until all the men were floundering and groping in the water, did -Torres raise the lid. The Jefe stood transfixed. He could only gaze and -mutter inarticulate mouthings. - -“Now will you believe?” Torres queried. “It is beyond price. We are the -richest two men in Panama, in South America, in the world. This is the -Maya treasure. We heard of it when we were boys. Our fathers and our -grandfathers dreamed of it. The Conquistadores failed to find it. And it -is ours——ours!” - -And, while the two men, almost stupefied, stood and stared, one by one -their followers crept out of the water, formed a silent semi-circle at -their backs, and likewise stared. Neither did the Jefe and Torres know -their men stood at their backs, nor did the men know of the Lost Souls -that were creeping stealthily upon them from the rear. As it was, all -were staring at the treasure with fascinated amazement when the attack -was sprung. - -Bows and arrows, at ten yards distance, are deadly, especially when due -time is taken to make certain of aim. Two-thirds of the treasure-seekers -went down simultaneously. Through Vicente, who had chanced to be -standing directly behind Torres, no less than two spears and five arrows -had perforated. The handful of survivors had barely time to seize their -rifles and whirl, when the club attack was upon them. In this Rafael and -Ignacio, two of the gendarmes who had been on the adventure to the -Juchitan oil fields, almost immediately had their skulls cracked. And, -as usual, the Lost Souls women saw to it that the wounded did not remain -wounded long. - -The end for Torres and the Jefe was but a matter of moments, when a loud -roar from the mountain followed by a crashing avalanche of rock, created -a diversion. The few Lost Souls that remained alive, darted back -terror-stricken into the shelter of the bushes. The Jefe and Torres, who -alone stood on their feet and breathed, cast their eyes up the cliff to -where the smoke still issued from the new-made hole, and saw Henry -Morgan and the Queen step into the sunshine on the lip of the cliff. - -“You take the lady,” the Jefe snarled. “I shall get the Gringo Morgan if -it’s the last act of what seems a life that isn’t going to be much -longer.” - -Both lifted their rifles and fired. Torres, never much of a shot, sent -his bullet fairly centered into the Queen’s breast. But the Jefe, master -marksman and possessor of many medals, made a clean miss of his target. -The next instant, a bullet from Henry’s rifle struck his wrist and -traveled up the forearm to the elbow, whence it escaped and passed on. -And as his rifle clattered to the ground he knew that never again would -that right arm, its bone pulped from wrist to elbow, have use for a -rifle. - -But Henry was not shooting well. Just emerged from twenty-four hours of -darkness in the cave, not at once could his eyes adjust themselves to -the blinding dazzle of the sun. His first shot had been lucky. His -succeeding shots merely struck in the immediate neighbourhood of the -Jefe and Torres as they turned and fled madly for the brush. - - * * * * * - -Ten minutes later, the wounded Jefe in the lead, Torres saw a woman of -the Lost Souls spring out from behind a tree and brain him with a huge -stone wielded in both her hands. Torres shot her first, then crossed -himself with horror, and stumbled on. From behind arose distant calls of -Henry and the Solano brothers in pursuit, and he remembered the vision -of his end he had glimpsed but refused to see in the Mirror of the World -and wondered if this end was near upon him. Yet it had not resembled -this place of trees and ferns and jungle. From the glimpse he remembered -nothing of vegetation——only solid rock and blazing sun and bones of -animals. Hope sprang up afresh at the thought. Perhaps that end was not -for this day, maybe not for this year. Who knew? Twenty years might yet -pass ere that end came. - -Emerging from the jungle, he came upon a queer ridge of what looked like -long disintegrated lava rock. Here he left no trail, and he proceeded -carefully on beyond it through further jungle, believing once again in -his star that would enable him to elude pursuit. His plan of escape took -shape. He would find a safe hiding place until after dark. Then he would -circle back to the lake and the whirl of waters. That gained, nothing -and nobody could stop him. He had but to leap in. The subterranean -journey had no terrors for him because he had done it before. And in his -fancy he saw once more the pleasant picture of the Gualaca River -flashing under the open sky on its way to the sea. Besides, did he not -carry with him the two great emeralds and two great rubies that had been -the eyes of Chia and Hzatzl? Fortune enough, and vast good fortune, were -they for any man. What if he had failed by the Maya Treasure to become -the richest man in the world? He was satisfied. All he wanted now was -darkness and one last dive into the heart of the mountain and through -the heart of the mountain to the Gualaca flowing to the sea. - -And just then, the assured vision of his escape so vividly filling his -eyes that he failed to observe the way of his feet, he dived. Nor was it -a dive into swirling waters. It was a head-foremost, dry-land dive down -a slope of rock. So slippery was it that he continued to slide down, -although he managed to turn around, with face and stomach to the -surface, and to claw wildly up with hands and feet. Such effort merely -slowed his descent, but could not stop it. - -For a while, at the bottom, he lay breathless and dazed. When his senses -came back to him, he became aware first of all of something unusual upon -which his hand rested. He could have sworn that he felt teeth. At -length, opening his eyes with a shudder and summoning his resolution, he -dared to look at the object. And relief was immediate. Teeth they were, -in an indubitable, weather-white jaw-bone; but they were pig’s teeth and -the jaw was a pig’s jaw. Other bones lay about, on which his body -rested, which, on examination, proved to be the bones of pigs and of -smaller animals. - -Where had he glimpsed such an arrangement of bones? He thought, and -remembered the Queen’s great golden bowl. He looked up. Ah! Mother of -God! The very place! He knew it at first sight, as he gazed up what was -a funnel at the far spectacle of day. Fully two hundred feet above him -was the rim of the funnel. The sides of hard, smooth rock sloped steeply -in and down to him, and his eyes and judgment told him that no man born -of woman could ever scale that slope. - -The fancy that came to his mind caused him to spring to his feet in -sudden panic and look hastily round about him. Only on a more colossal -scale, the funnel in which he was trapped had reminded him of the -funnel-pits dug in the sand by hunting spiders that lurked at the bottom -for such prey that tumbled in upon them. And, his vivid fancy leaping, -he had been frightened by the thought that some spider monster, as -colossal as the funnel-pit, might possibly be lurking there to devour -him. But no such denizen occurred. The bottom of the pit, circular in -form, was a good ten feet across and carpeted, he knew not how deep, by -a debris of small animals’ bones. Now for what had the Mayas of old time -made so tremendous an excavation? he questioned; for he was more than -half-convinced that the funnel was no natural phenomenon. - -Before nightfall he made sure, by a dozen attempts, that the funnel was -unscalable. Between attempts, he crouched in the growing shadow of the -descending sun and panted dry-lipped with heat and thirst. The place was -a very furnace, and the juices of his body were wrung from him in -profuse perspiration. Throughout the night, between dozes, he vainly -pondered the problem of escape. The only way out was up, nor could his -mind devise any method of getting up. Also, he looked forward with -terror to the coming of the day, for he knew that no man could survive a -full ten hours of the baking heat that would be his. Ere the next -nightfall the last drop of moisture would have evaporated from his body -leaving him a withered and already half-sun-dried mummy. - -With the coming of daylight his growing terror added wings to his -thought, and he achieved a new and profoundly simple theory of escape. -Since he could not climb up, and since he could not get out through the -sides themselves, then the only possible remaining way was down. Fool -that he was! He might have been working through the cool night hours, -and now he must labour in the quickly increasing heat. He applied -himself in an ecstasy of energy to digging down through the mass of -crumbling bones. Of course, there was a way out. Else how did the funnel -drain? Otherwise it would have been full or part full of water from the -rains. Fool! And thrice times thrice a fool! - -He dug down one side of the wall, flinging the rubbish into a mound -against the opposite side. So desperately did he apply himself that he -broke his finger-nails to the quick and deeper, while every finger-tip -was lacerated to bleeding. But love of life was strong in him, and he -knew it was a life-and-death race with the sun. As he went deeper, the -rubbish became more compact, so that he used the muzzle of his rifle -like a crowbar to loosen it, ere tossing it up in single and double -handfuls. - -By mid-forenoon, his senses beginning to reel in the heat, he made a -discovery. Upon the wall which he had uncovered, he came upon the -beginning of an inscription, evidently rudely scratched in the rock by -the point of a knife. With renewed hope, his head and shoulders down in -the hole, he dug and scratched for all the world like a dog, throwing -the rubbish out and between his legs in true dog-fashion. Some of it -fell clear, but most of it fell back and down upon him. Yet had he -become too frantic to note the inefficiency of his effort. - -At last the inscription was cleared, so that he was able to read: - - Peter McGill, of Glasgow. On March 12, 1820, - I escaped from the Pit of Hell by this passage by - digging down and finding it. - -A passage! The passage must be beneath the inscription! Torres now -toiled in a fury. So dirt-soiled was he that he was like some huge, -four-legged, earth-burrowing animal. The dirt got into his eyes, and, on -occasion, into his nostrils and air passages so as to suffocate him and -compel him to back up out of the hole and sneeze and cough his breathing -apparatus clear. Twice he fainted. But the sun, by then almost directly -overhead, drove him on. - -He found the upper rim of the passage. He did not dig down to the lower -rim; for the moment the aperture was large enough to accommodate his -lean shape, he writhed and squirmed into it and away from the destroying -sun-rays. The cool and the dark soothed him, but his joy and the -reaction from what he had undergone sent his pulse giddily up, so that -for the third time he fainted. - -Recovered, mouthing with black and swollen lips a half-insane chant of -gratefulness and thanksgiving, he crawled on along the passage. Perforce -he crawled, because it was so low that a dwarf could not have stood -erect in it. The place was a charnel house. Bones crunched and crumbled -under his hands and knees, and he knew that his knees were being worn to -the bone. At the end of a hundred feet he caught his first glimmering of -light. But the nearer he approached freedom, the slower he progressed, -for the final stages of exhaustion were coming upon him. He knew that it -was not physical exhaustion, nor food exhaustion, but thirst exhaustion. -Water, a few ounces of water, was all he needed to make him strong -again. And there was no water. - -But the light was growing stronger and nearer. He noted, toward the -last, that the floor of the passage pitched down at an angle of fully -thirty degrees. This made the way easier. Gravity drew him on, and -helped every failing effort of him, toward the source of light. Very -close to it, he encountered an increase in the deposit of bones. Yet -they bothered him little, for they had become an old story, while he was -too exhausted to mind them. - -He did observe, with swimming eyes and increasing numbness of touch, -that the passage was contracting both vertically and horizontally. -Slanting downward at thirty degrees, it gave him an impression of a -rat-trap, himself the rat, descending head foremost toward he knew not -what. Even before he reached it, he apprehended that the slit of bright -day that advertised the open world beyond was too narrow for the egress -of his body. And his apprehension was verified. Crawling unconcernedly -over a skeleton that the blaze of day showed him to be a man’s, he -managed, by severely and painfully squeezing his ears flat back, to -thrust his head through the slitted aperture. The sun beat down upon his -head, while his eyes drank in the openness of the freedom of the world -that the unyielding rock denied to the rest of his body. - -Most maddening of all was a running stream not a hundred yards away, -tree-fringed beyond, with lush meadow-grass leading down to it from his -side. And in the tree-shadowed water, knee-deep and drowsing, stood -several cows of the dwarf breed peculiar to the Valley of Lost Souls. -Occasionally they flicked their tails lazily at flies, or changed the -distribution of their weight on their legs. He glared at them to see -them drink, but they were evidently too sated with water. Fools! Why -should they not drink, with all that wealth of water flowing idly by! - -They betrayed alertness, turning their heads toward the far bank and -pricking their ears forward. Then, as a big antlered buck came out from -among the trees to the water’s edge, they flattened their ears back and -shook their heads and pawed the water till he could hear the splashing. -But the stag disdained their threats, lowered his head, and drank. This -was too much for Torres, who emitted a maniacal scream which, had he -been in his senses, he would not have recognised as proceeding from his -own throat and larynx. - -The stag sprang away. The cattle turned their heads in Torres’ -direction, drowsed, their eyes shut, and resumed the flicking of flies. -With a violent effort, scarcely knowing that he had half-torn off his -ears, he drew his head back through the slitted aperture and fainted on -top of the skeleton. - -Two hours later, though he did not know the passage of time, he regained -consciousness, and found his own head cheek by jowl with the skull of -the skeleton on which he lay. The descending sun was already shining -into the narrow opening, and his gaze chanced upon a rusty knife. The -point of it was worn and broken, and he established the connection. This -was the knife that had scratched the inscription on the rock at the base -of the funnel at the other end of the passage, and this skeleton was the -bony framework of the man who had done the scratching. And Alvarez -Torres went immediately mad. - -“Ah, Peter McGill, my enemy,” he muttered. “Peter McGill of Glasgow who -betrayed me to this end.—This for you!—And this!—And this!” - -So speaking, he drove the heavy knife into the fragile front of the -skull. The dust of the bone which had once been the tabernacle of Peter -McGill’s brain arose in his nostrils and increased his frenzy. He -attacked the skeleton with his hands, tearing at it, disrupting it, -filling the pent space about him with flying bones. It was like a -battle, in which he destroyed what was left of the mortal remains of the -one time resident of Glasgow. - -Once again Torres squeezed his head through the slit to gaze at the -fading glory of the world. Like a rat in the trap caught by the neck in -the trap of ancient Maya devising, he saw the bright world and day dim -to darkness as his final consciousness drowned in the darkness of death. - -But still the cattle stood in the water and drowsed and flicked at -flies, and, later, the stag returned, disdainful of the cattle, to -complete its interrupted drink. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - -Not for nothing had Regan been named by his associates, The Wolf of Wall -Street! While usually no more than a conservative, large-scale player, -ever so often, like a periodical drinker, he had to go on a rampage of -wild and daring stock-gambling. At least five times in his long career -had he knocked the bottom out of the market or lifted the roof off, and -each time to the tune of a personal gain of millions. He never went on a -small rampage, and he never went too often. - -He would let years of quiescence slip by, until suspicion of him was -lulled asleep and his world deemed that the Wolf was at last grown old -and peaceable. And then, like a thunderbolt, he would strike at the men -and interests he wished to destroy. But, though the blow always fell -like a thunderbolt, not like a thunderbolt was it in its inception. Long -months, and even years, were spent in deviously preparing for the day -and painstakingly maturing the plans and conditions for the battle. - -Thus had it been in the outlining and working up of the impending -Waterloo for Francis Morgan. Revenge lay back of it, but it was revenge -against a dead man. Not Francis, but Francis’ father, was the one he -struck against, although he struck through the living into the heart of -the grave to accomplish it. Eight years he had waited and sought his -chance ere old R.H.M.——Richard Henry Morgan——had died. But no chance had -he found. He was, truly, the Wolf of Wall Street, but never by any luck -had he found an opportunity against the Lion—for to his death R.H.M. had -been known as the Lion of Wall Street. - -So, from father to son, always under a show of fair appearance, Regan -had carried the feud over. Yet Regan’s very foundation on which he built -for revenge was meretricious and wrongly conceived. True, eight years -before R.H.M.’s death, he had tried to double-cross him and failed; but -he never dreamed that R.H.M. had guessed. Yet R.H.M. had not only -guessed but had ascertained beyond any shadow of doubt, and had promptly -and cleverly double-crossed his treacherous associate. Thus, had Regan -known that R.H.M. knew of his perfidy, Regan would have taken his -medicine without thought of revenge. As it was, believing that R.H.M. -was as bad as himself, believing that R.H.M., out of meanness as mean as -his own, without provocation or suspicion, had done this foul thing to -him, he saw no way to balance the account save by ruining him, or, in -lieu of him, by ruining his son. - -And Regan had taken his time. At first Francis had left the financial -game alone, content with letting his money remain safely in the safe -investments into which it had been put by his father. Not until Francis -had become for the first time active in undertaking Tampico Petroleum to -the tune of millions of investment, with an assured many millions of -ultimate returns, had Regan had the ghost of a chance to destroy him. -But, the chance given, Regan had not wasted time, though his slow and -thorough campaign had required many months to develop. Ere he was done, -he came very close to knowing every share of whatever stock Francis -carried on margin or owned outright. - -It had really taken two years and more for Regan to prepare. In some of -the corporations in which Francis owned heavily, Regan was himself a -director and no inconsiderable arbiter of destiny. In Frisco -Consolidated he was president. In New York, Vermont and Connecticut he -was vice-president. From controlling one director in Northwestern -Electric, he had played kitchen politics until he controlled the -two-thirds majority. And so with all the rest, either directly, or -indirectly through corporation and banking ramifications, he had his -hand in the secret springs and levers of the financial and business -mechanism which gave strength to Francis’ fortune. - -Yet no one of these was more than a bagatelle compared with the biggest -thing of all——Tampico Petroleum. In this, beyond a paltry twenty -thousand shares bought on the open market, Regan owned nothing, -controlled nothing, though the time was growing ripe for him to sell and -deal and juggle in inordinate quantities. Tampico Petroleum was -practically Francis’ private preserve. A number of his friends were, for -them, deeply involved, Mrs. Carruthers even gravely so. She worried him, -and was not even above pestering him over the telephone. There were -others, like Johnny Pathmore, who never bothered him at all, and who, -when they met, talked carelessly and optimistically about the condition -of the market and financial things in general. All of which was harder -to bear than Mrs. Carruthers’ perpetual nervousness. - -Northwestern Electric, thanks to Regan’s machinations, had actually -dropped thirty points and remained there. Those on the outside who -thought they knew, regarded it as positively shaky. Then there was the -little, old, solid-as-the-rock-of-Gibraltar Frisco Consolidated. The -nastiest of rumors were afloat, and the talk of a receivership was -growing emphatic. Montana Lode was still sickly under Mulhaney’s -unflattering and unmodified report, and Weston, the great expert sent -out by the English investors, had failed to report anything reassuring. -For six months, Imperial Tungsten, earning nothing, had been put to -disastrous expense in the great strike which seemed only just begun. Nor -did anybody, save the several labor leaders who knew, dream that it was -Regan’s gold that was at the bottom of the affair. - -The secrecy and the deadliness of the attack was what unnerved Bascom. -All properties in which Francis was interested were being pressed down -as if by a slow-moving glacier. There was nothing spectacular about the -movement, merely a steady persistent decline that made Francis’ large -fortune shrink horribly. And, along with what he owned outright, what he -held on margin suffered even greater shrinkage. - -Then had come rumors of war. Ambassadors were receiving their passports -right and left, and half the world seemed mobilizing. This was the -moment, with the market shaken and panicky, and with the world powers -delaying in declaring moratoriums, that Regan selected to strike. The -time was ripe for a bear raid, and with him were associated half a dozen -other big bears who tacitly accepted his leadership. But even they did -not know the full extent of his plans, nor guess at the specific -direction of them. They were in the raid for what they could make, and -thought he was in it for the same reason, in their simple directness of -pecuniary vision catching no glimpse of Francis Morgan nor of his -ghostly father at whom the big blow was being struck. - -Regan’s rumor factory began working overtime, and the first to drop and -the fastest to drop in the dropping market were the stocks of Francis, -which had already done considerable dropping ere the bear market began. -Yet Regan was careful to bring no pressure on Tampico Petroleum. Proudly -it held up its head in the midst of the general slump, and eagerly Regan -waited for the moment of desperation when Francis would be forced to -dump it on the market to cover his shrunken margins in other lines. - - * * * * * - -“Lord! Lord!” - -Bascom held the side of his face in the palm of one hand and grimaced as -if he had a jumping toothache. - -“Lord! Lord!” he reiterated. “The market’s gone to smash and Tampico Pet -along with it. How she slumped! Who’d have dreamed it!” - -Francis, puffing steadily away at a cigarette and quite oblivious that -it was unlighted, sat with Bascom in the latter’s private office. - -“It looks like a fire-sale,” he vouchsafed. - -“That won’t last longer than this time to-morrow morning——then you’ll be -sold out, and me with you,” his broker simplified, with a swift glance -at the clock. - -It marked twelve, as Francis’ swiftly automatic glance verified. - -“Dump in the rest of Tampico Pet,” he said wearily. “That ought to hold -back until to-morrow.” - -“Then what to-morrow?” his broker demanded, “with the bottom out and -everybody including the office boys selling short.” - -Francis shrugged his shoulders. “You know I’ve mortgaged the house, -Dreamwold, and the Adirondack Camp to the limit.” - -“Have you any friends?” - -“At such a time!” Francis countered bitterly. - -“Well, it’s the very time,” Bascom retorted. “Look here, Morgan. I know -the set you ran with at college. There’s Johnny Pathmore——” - -“And he’s up to his eyes already. When I smash he smashes. And Dave -Donaldson will have to readjust his life to about one hundred and sixty -a month. And as for Chris Westhouse, he’ll have to take to the movies -for a livelihood. He always was good at theatricals, and I happen to -know he’s got the ideal ‘film’ face.” - -“There’s Charley Tippery,” Bascom suggested, though it was patent that -he was hopeless about it. - -“Yes,” Francis agreed with equal hopelessness. “There’s only one thing -the matter with him——his father still lives.” - -“The old cuss never took a flyer in his life,” Bascom supplemented. -“There’s never a time he can’t put his hand on millions. And he still -lives, worse luck.” - -“Charley could get him to do it, and would, except the one thing that’s -the matter with me.” - -“No securities left?” his broker queried. - -Francis nodded. - -“Catch the old man parting with a dollar without due security.” - - * * * * * - -Nevertheless, a few minutes later, hoping to find Charley Tippery in his -office during the noon hour, Francis was sending in his card. Of all -jewelers and gem merchants in New York, the Tippery establishment was -the greatest. Not only that. It was esteemed the greatest in the world. -More of the elder Tippery’s money was invested in the great Diamond -Corner, than even those in the know of most things knew of this -particular thing. - -The interview was as Francis had forecast. The old man still held tight -reins on practically everything, and the son had little hope of winning -his assistance. - -“I know him,” he told Francis. “And though I’m going to wrestle with -him, don’t pin an iota of faith on the outcome. I’ll go to the mat with -him, but that will be about all. The worst of it is that he has the -ready cash, to say nothing of oodles and oodles of safe securities and -United States bonds. But you see, Grandfather Tippery, when he was young -and struggling and founding the business, once loaned a friend a -thousand. He never got it back, and he never got over it. Nor did Father -Tippery ever get over it either. The experience seared both of them. -Why, father wouldn’t lend a penny on the North Pole unless he got the -Pole for security after having had it expertly appraised. And you -haven’t any security, you see. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll wrestle with -the old man to-night after dinner. That’s his most amiable mood of the -day,. And I’ll hustle around on my own and see what I can do. Oh, I know -a few hundred thousand won’t mean anything, and I’ll do my darnedest for -something big. Whatever happens, I’ll be at your house at nine -to-morrow——” - -“Which will be my busy day,” Francis smiled wanly, as they shook hands. -“I’ll be out of the house by eight.” - -“And I’ll be there by eight then,” Charley Tippery responded, again -wringing his hand heartily. “And in the meantime I’ll get busy. There -are ideas already beginning to sprout....” - - * * * * * - -Another interview Francis had that afternoon. Arrived back at his -broker’s office, Bascom told him that Regan had called up and wanted to -see Francis, saying that he had some interesting information for him. - -“I’ll run around right away,” Francis said, reaching for his hat, while -his face lighted up with hope. “He was an old friend of father’s, and if -anybody could pull me through, he could.” - -“Don’t be too sure,” Bascom shook his head, and paused reluctantly a -moment before making confession. “I called him up just before you -returned from Panama. I was very frank. I told him of your absence and -of your perilous situation here, and——oh, yes, flatly and flat -out——asked him if I could rely on him in case of need. And he baffled. -You know anybody can baffle when asked a favor. That was all right. But -I thought I sensed more ... no, I won’t dare to say enmity; but I will -say that I was impressed ... how shall I say?—well, that he struck me as -being particularly and peculiarly cold-blooded and non-committal.” - -“Nonsense,” Francis laughed. “He was too good a friend of my father’s.” - -“Ever heard of the Conmopolitan Railways Merger?” Bascom queried with -significant irrelevance. - -Francis nodded promptly, then said: - -“But that was before my time. I merely have heard of it, that’s all. -Shoot. Tell me about it. Give me the weight of your mind.” - -“Too long a story, but take this one word of advice. If you see Regan, -don’t put your cards on the table. Let him play first, and, if he -offers, let him offer without solicitation from you. Of course, I may be -all wrong, but it won’t damage you to hold up your hand and get his play -first.” - -At the end of another half hour, Francis was closeted with Regan, and -the stress of his peril was such that he controlled his natural -impulses, remembering Bascom’s instruction, and was quite fairly -nonchalant about the state of his affairs. He even bluffed. - -“In pretty deep, eh?” was Regan’s beginning. - -“Oh, not so deep that my back-teeth are awash yet,” Francis replied -airily. “I can still breathe, and it will be a long time before I begin -swallowing.” - -Regan did not immediately reply. Instead, pregnantly, he ran over the -last few yards of the ticker tape. - -“You’re dumping Tampico Pet pretty heavily, just the same.” - -“And they’re snapping it up,” Francis came back, and for the first time, -in a maze of wonderment, he considered the possibility of Bascom’s -intuition being right. “Sure, I’ve got _them_ swallowing.” - -“Just the same, you’ll note that Tampico Pet is tumbling at the same -time it’s being snapped up, which is a very curious phenomenon,” Regan -urged. - -“In a bear market all sorts of curious phenomena occur,” Francis bluffed -with a mature show of wisdom. “And when they’ve swallowed enough of my -dumpings they’ll be ripe to roll on a barrel. Somebody will pay -something to get my dumpings out of their system. I fancy they’ll pay -through the nose before I’m done with them.” - -“But you’re all in, boy. I’ve been watching your fight, even before your -return. Tampico Pet is your last.” - -Francis shook his head. - -“I’d scarcely say that,” he lied. “I’ve got assets my market enemies -never dream of. I’m luring them on, that’s all, just luring them on. Of -course, Regan, I’m telling you this in confidence. You were my father’s -friend. Mine is going to be some clean up, and, if you’ll take my tip, -in this short market you start buying. You’ll be sure to settle with the -sellers long in the end.” - -“What are your other assets?” - -Francis shrugged his shoulders. - -“That’s what they’re going to find out when they’re full up with my -stuff.” - -“It’s a bluff!” Regan admired explosively. “You’ve got the old man’s -nerve, all right. But you’ve got to show me it isn’t bluff.” - -Regan waited, and Francis was suddenly inspired. - -“It is,” he muttered. “You’ve named it. I’m drowning over my back-teeth -now, and they’re the highest out of the wash. But I won’t drown if you -will help me. All you’ve got to do is to remember my father and put out -your hand to save his son. If you’ll back me up, we’ll make them all -sick....” - -And right there the Wolf of Wall Street showed his teeth. He pointed to -Richard Henry Morgan’s picture. - -“Why do you think I kept that hanging on the wall all these years?” he -demanded. - -Francis nodded as if the one accepted explanation was their tried and -ancient friendship. - -“Guess again,” Regan sneered grimly. - -Francis shook his head in perplexity. - -“So I shouldn’t ever forget him,” the Wolf went on. “And never a waking -moment have I forgotten him.——Remember the Conmopolitan Railways Merger? -Well, old R.H.M. double-crossed me in that deal. And it was some -double-cross, believe me. But he was too cunning ever to let me get a -come-back on him. So there his picture has hung, and here I’ve sat and -waited. And now the time has come.” - -“You mean?” Francis queried quietly. - -“Just that,” Regan snarled. “I’ve waited and worked for this day, and -the day has come. I’ve got the whelp where I want him at any rate.” He -glanced up maliciously at the picture. “And if that don’t make the old -gent turn in his grave....” - -Francis rose to his feet and regarded his enemy curiously. - -“No,” he said, as if in soliloquy, “it isn’t worth it.” - -“What isn’t worth what?” the other demanded with swift suspicion. - -“Beating you up,” was the cool answer. “I could kill you with my hands -in five minutes. You’re no Wolf. You’re just mere yellow dog, the part -of you that isn’t plain skunk. They told me to expect this of you; but I -didn’t believe, and I came to see. They were right. You were all that -they said. Well, I must get along out of this. It smells like a den of -foxes. It stinks.” - -He paused with his hand on the door knob and looked back. He had not -succeeded in making Regan lose his temper. - -“And what are you going to do about it?” the latter jeered. - -“If you’ll permit me to get my broker on your ‘phone maybe you’ll -learn,” Francis replied. - -“Go to it, my laddy buck,” Regan conceded, then, with a wave of -suspicion, “—I’ll get him for you myself.” - -And, having ascertained that Bascom was really at the other end of the -line, he turned the receiver over to Francis. - -“You were right,” the latter assured Bascom. “Regan’s all you said and -worse. Go right on with your plan of campaign. We’ve got him where we -want him, though the old fox won’t believe it for a moment. He thinks -he’s going to strip me, clean me out.” Francis paused to think up the -strongest way of carrying on his bluff, then continued. “I’ll tell you -something you don’t know. He’s the one who manœuvred the raid from the -beginning. So now you know who we’re going to bury.” - -And, after a little more of similar talk, he hung up. - -“You see,” he explained, again from the door, “you were so crafty that -we couldn’t make out who it was. Why hell, Regan, we were prepared to -give a walloping to some unknown that had several times your strength. -And now that it’s you, it’s easy. We were prepared to strain. But with -you it will be a walk-over. To-morrow, around this time, there’s going -to be a funeral right here in your office and you’re not going to be one -of the mourners. You’re going to be the corpse——and a not-nice looking -financial corpse you’ll be when we get done with you.” - -“The dead spit of R.H.M.,” the Wolf grinned. “Lord, how he could pull -off a bluff!” - -“It’s a pity he didn’t bury you and save me all the trouble,” was -Francis’ parting shot. - -“And all the expense,” Regan flung after him. “It’s going to be pretty -expensive for you, and there isn’t going to be any funeral from this -place.” - - * * * * * - -“Well, to-morrow’s the day,” Francis delivered to Bascom, as they parted -that evening. “This time to-morrow I’ll be a perfectly nice scalped and -skinned and sun-dried and smoke-cured specimen for Regan’s private -collection. But who’d have believed the old skunk had it in for me! I -never harmed him. On the contrary, I always considered him father’s best -friend.——If Charley Tippery could only come through with some of the -Tippery surplus coin....” - -“Or if the United States would only declare a moratorium,” Bascom hoped -equally hopelessly. - -And Regan, at that moment, was saying to his assembled agents and -rumor-factory specialists: - -“Sell! Sell! Sell all you’ve got and then sell short. I see no bottom to -this market!” - -And Francis, on his way up town, buying the last extra, scanned the -five-inch-lettered headline: - - “I SEE NO BOTTOM TO THIS MARKET.—THOMAS REGAN.” - -But Francis was not at his house at eight next morning to meet Charley -Tippery. It had been a night in which official Washington had not slept, -and the night-wires had carried the news out over the land that the -United States, though not at war, had declared its moratorium. Wakened -out of his bed at seven by Bascom in person, who brought the news, -Francis had accompanied him down town. The moratorium had given them -hope, and there was much to do. - -Charles Tippery, however, was not the first to arrive at the Riverside -Drive palace. A few minutes before eight, Parker was very much disturbed -and perturbed when Henry and Leoncia, much the worse for sunburn and -travel-stain, brushed past the second butler who had opened the door. - -“It’s no use you’re coming in this way,” Parker assured them. “Mr. -Morgan is not at home.” - -“Where’s he gone?” Henry demanded, shifting the suit-case he carried to -the other hand. “We’ve got to see him _pronto_, and I’ll have you know -that _pronto_ means quick. And who in hell are you?” - -“I am Mr. Morgan’s confidential valet,” Parker answered solemnly. “And -who are you?” - -“My name’s Morgan,” Henry answered shortly, looking about in quest of -something, striding to the library, glancing in, and discovering the -telephones. “Where’s Francis? With what number can I call him up?” - -“Mr. Morgan left express instructions that nobody was to telephone him -except on important business.” - -“Well, my business is important. What’s the number?” - -“Mr. Morgan is very busy to-day,” Parker reiterated stubbornly. - -“He’s in a pretty bad way, eh?” Henry quizzed. - -The valet’s face remained expressionless. - -“Looks as though he was going to be cleaned out to-day, eh?” - -Parker’s face betrayed neither emotion nor intelligence. - -“For a second time I tell you he is very busy——” he began. - -“Hell’s bells!” Henry interrupted. “It’s no secret. The market’s got him -where the hair is short. Everybody knows that. A lot of it was in the -morning papers. Now come across, Mr. Confidential Valet. I want his -number. I’ve got important business with him myself.” - -But Parker remained obdurate. - -“What’s his lawyer’s name? Or the name of his agent? Or of any of his -representatives?” - -Parker shook his head. - -“If you will tell me the nature of your business with him,” the valet -essayed. - -Henry dropped the suit-case and made as if about to leap upon the other -and shake Francis’ number out of him. But Leoncia intervened. - -“Tell him,” she said. - -“Tell him!” Henry shouted, accepting her suggestion. “I’ll do better -than that. I’ll show him.—Here, come on, you.” He strode into the -library, swung the suit-case on the reading table, and began opening it. -“Listen to me, Mr. Confidential Valet. Our business is the real -business. We’re going to save Francis Morgan. We’re going to pull him -out of the hole. We’ve got millions for him, right here inside of this -thing——” - -Parker, who had been looking on with cold, disapproving eyes, recoiled -in alarm at the last words. Either the strange callers were lunatics, or -cunning criminals. Even at that moment, while they held him here with -their talk of millions, confederates might be ransacking the upper parts -of the house. As for the suit-case, for all he knew it might be filled -with dynamite. - -“Here!” - -With a quick reach Henry had caught him by the collar as he turned to -flee. With his other hand, Henry lifted the cover, exposing a bushel of -uncut gems. Parker showed plainly that he was overcome, although Henry -failed to guess the nature of his agitation. - -“Thought I’d convince you,” Henry exulted. “Now be a good dog and give -me his number.” - -“Be seated, sir ... and madame,” Parker murmured, with polite bows and a -successful effort to control himself. “Be seated, please. I have left -the private number in Mr. Morgan’s bedroom, which he gave to me this -morning when I helped him dress. I shall be gone but a moment to get it. -In the meantime please be seated.” - -Once outside the library, Parker became a most active, clear-thinking -person. Stationing the second footman at the front door, he placed the -first one to watch at the library door. Several other servants he sent -scouting into the upper regions on the chance of surprising possible -confederates at their nefarious work. Himself he addressed, via the -butler’s telephone, to the nearest police station. - -“Yes, sir,” he repeated to the desk sergeant. “They are either a couple -of lunatics or criminals. Send a patrol wagon at once, please, sir. Even -now I do not know what horrible crimes are being committed under this -roof ...” - -In the meantime, in response at the front door, the second footman, with -visible relief, admitted Charley Tippery, clad in evening dress at that -early hour, as a known and tried friend of the master. The first butler, -with similar relief, to which he added sundry winks and warnings, -admitted him into the library. - -Expecting he knew not what nor whom, Charley Tippery advanced across the -large room to the strange man and woman. Unlike Parker, their sunburn -and travel-stain caught his eye, not as insignia suspicious, but as -tokens worthy of wider consideration than average New York accords its -more or less average visitors. Leoncia’s beauty was like a blow between -the eyes, and he knew she was a lady. Henry’s bronze, brazed upon -features unmistakably reminiscent of Francis and of R.H.M., drew his -admiration and respect. - -“Good morning,” he addressed Henry, although he subtly embraced Leoncia -with his greeting. “Friends of Francis?” - -“Oh, sir,” Leoncia cried out. “We are more than friends. We are here to -save him. I have read the morning papers. If only it weren’t for the -stupidity of the servants ...” - -And Charley Tippery was immediately unaware of any slightest doubt. He -extended his hand to Henry. - -“I am Charley Tippery,” he said. - -“And my name’s Morgan, Henry Morgan,” Henry met him warmly, like a -drowning man clutching at a life preserver. “And this is Miss Solano—the -Senorita Solano—Mr. Tippery. In fact, Miss Solano is my sister.” - -“I came on the same errand,” Charley Tippery announced, introductions -over. “The saving of Francis, as I understand it, must consist of hard -cash or of securities indisputably negotiable. I have brought with me -what I have hustled all night to get, and what I am confident is not -sufficient——” - -“How much have you brought?” Henry asked bluntly. - -“Eighteen hundred thousand—what have you brought?” - -“Piffle,” said Henry, pointing to the open suit-case, unaware that he -talked to a three-generations’ gem expert. - -A quick examination of a dozen of the gems picked at random, and an even -quicker eye-estimate of the quantity, put wonder and excitement into -Charley Tippery’s face. - -“They’re worth millions! millions!” he exclaimed. “What are you going to -do with them?” - -“Negotiate them, so as to help Francis out,” Henry answered. “They’re -security for any amount, aren’t they?” - -“Close up the suit-case,” Charley Tippery cried, “while I telephone!—I -want to catch my father before he leaves the house,” he explained over -his shoulder, while waiting for his switch. “It’s only five minutes’ run -from here.” - -Just as he concluded the brief words with his father, Parker, followed -by a police lieutenant and two policemen, entered. - -“There’s the gang, lieutenant—arrest them,” Parker said.—“Oh, sir, I beg -your pardon, Mr. Tippery. Not you, of course.—Only the other two, -lieutenant. I don’t know what the charge will be—crazy, anyway, if not -worse, which is more likely.” - -“How do you do, Mr. Tippery,” the lieutenant greeted familiarly. - -“You’ll arrest nobody, Lieutenant Burns,” Charley Tippery smiled to him. -“You can send the wagon back to the station. I’ll square it with the -Inspector. For you’re coming along with me, and this suit-case, and -these suspicious characters, to my house. You’ll have to be -bodyguard—oh, not for me, but for this suit-case. There are millions in -it, cold millions, hard millions, beautiful millions. When I open it -before my father, you’ll see a sight given to few men in this world to -see.—And now, come on everybody. We’re wasting time.” - -He made a grab at the suit-case simultaneously with Henry, and, as both -their hands clutched it, Lieutenant Burns sprang to interfere. - -“I fancy I’ll carry it until it’s negotiated,” Henry asserted. - -“Surely, surely,” Charley Tippery conceded, “as long as we don’t lose -any more precious time. It will take time to do the negotiating. Come -on! Hustle!” - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - - -Helped tremendously by the moratorium, the sagging market had ceased -sagging, and some stocks were even beginning to recover. This was true -for practically every line save those lines in which Francis owned and -which Regan was bearing. He continued bearing and making them -reluctantly fall, and he noted with joy the huge blocks of Tampico -Petroleum which were being dumped obviously by no other person than -Francis. - -“Now’s the time,” Regan informed his bear conspirators. “Play her coming -and going. It’s a double ruff. Remember the list I gave you. Sell these, -and sell short. For them there is no bottom. As for all the rest, buy -and buy now, and deliver all that you sold. You can’t lose, you see, and -by continuing to hammer the list you’ll make a double killing.” - -“How about yourself?” one of his bear crowd queried. - -“I’ve nothing to buy,” came the answer. “That will show you how square I -have been in my tip, and how confident I am. I haven’t sold a share -outside the list, so I have nothing to deliver. I am still selling short -and hammering down the list, and the list only. There’s my killing, and -you can share in it by as much as you continue to sell short.” - - * * * * * - -“There you are!” Bascom, in despair in his private office, cried to -Francis at ten-thirty. “Here’s the whole market rising, except your -lines. Regan’s out for blood. I never dreamed he could show such -strength. We can’t stand this. We’re finished. We’re smashed now——you, -me, all of us——everything.” - -Never had Francis been cooler. Since all was lost, why worry?—was his -attitude; and, a mere layman in the game, he caught a glimpse of -possibilities that were veiled to Bascom who too thoroughly knew too -much about the game. - -“Take it easy,” Francis counseled, his new vision assuming form and -substance with each tick of a second. “Let’s have a smoke and talk it -over for a few minutes.” - -Bascom made a gesture of infinite impatience. - -“But wait,” Francis urged. “Stop! Look! Listen! I’m finished, you say?” - -His broker nodded. - -“You’re finished?” - -Again the nod. - -“Which means that we’re busted, flat busted,” Francis went on to the -exposition of his new idea. “Now it is perfectly clear, then, to your -mind and mine, that a man can never be worse than a complete, perfect, -hundred-percent., entire, total bust.” - -“We’re wasting valuable time,” Bascom protested as he nodded -affirmation. - -“Not if we’re busted as completely as you’ve agreed we are,” smiled -Francis. “Being thoroughly busted, time, sales, purchases, nothing can -be of any value to us. Values have ceased, don’t you see.” - -“Go on, what is it?” Bascom said, with the momentarily assumed patience -of abject despair. “I’m busted higher than a kite now, and, as you say, -they can’t bust me any higher.” - -“Now you get the idea!” Francis jubilated. “You’re a member of the -Exchange. Then go ahead, sell or buy, do anything your and my merry -hearts decide. We can’t lose. Anything from zero always leaves zero. -We’ve shot all we’ve got, and more. Let’s shoot what we haven’t got.” - -Bascom still struggled feebly to protest, but Francis beat him down with -a final: - -“Remember, anything from zero leaves zero.” - -And for the next hour, as in a nightmare, no longer a free agent, Bascom -yielded to Francis’ will in the maddest stock adventure of his life. - -“Oh, well,” Francis laughed at half-past eleven, “we might as well quit -now. But remember, we’re no worse off than we were an hour ago. We were -zero then. We’re zero now. You can hang up the auctioneer’s flag any -time now.” - -Bascom, heavily and wearily taking down the receiver, was about to -transmit the orders that would stop the battle by acknowledgment of -unconditional defeat, when the door opened and through it came the -familiar ring of a pirate stave that made Francis flash his hand out in -peremptory stoppage of his broker’s arm. - -“Stop!” Francis cried. “Listen!” - -And they listened to the song preceding the singer: - - “Back to back against the mainmast, - Held at bay the entire crew.” - -As Henry swaggered in, carrying a huge and different suit-case, Francis -joined with him in the stave. - -“What’s doing?” Bascom queried of Charley Tippery, who, still in evening -dress, looked very jaded and worn from his exertions. - -From his breast pocket he drew and passed over three certified checks -that totaled eighteen hundred thousand dollars. Bascom shook his head -sadly. - -“Too late,” he said. “That’s only a drop in the bucket. Put them back in -your pocket. It would be only throwing them away.” - -“But wait,” Charley Tippery cried, taking the suit-case from his singing -companion and proceeding to open it. “Maybe that will help.” - -“That” consisted of a great mass of orderly bundles of gold bonds and -gilt edge securities. - -“How much is it?” Bascom gasped, his courage springing up like -wild-fire. - -But Francis, overcome by the sight of such plethora of ammunition, -ceased singing to gasp. And both he and Bascom gasped again when Henry -drew from his inside pocket a bundle of a dozen certified checks. They -could only stare at the prodigious sum, for each was written for a -million dollars. - -“And plenty more where that came from,” Henry announced airily. “All you -have to do is say the word, Francis, and we’ll knock this bear gang to -smithereens. Now suppose you get busy. The rumors are around everywhere -that you’re gone and done for. Pitch in and show them, that’s all. Bust -every last one of them that jumped you. Shake ‘m down to their gold -watches and the fillings out of their teeth.” - -“You found old Sir Henry’s treasure after all,” Francis congratulated. - -“No,” Henry shook his head. “That represents part of the old Maya -treasure——about a third of it. We’ve got another third down with Enrico -Solano, and the last third’s safe right here in the Jewelers and -Traders’ National Bank.—Say, I’ve got news for you when you’re ready to -listen.” - -And Francis was quickly ready. Bascom knew even better than he what was -to be done, and was already giving his orders to his staff over the -telephone—buying orders of such prodigious size that all of Regan’s -fortune would not enable him to deliver what he had sold short. - -“Torres is dead,” Henry told him. - -“Hurrah!” was Francis’ way of receiving it. - -“Died like a rat in a trap. I saw his head sticking out. It wasn’t -pretty. And the Jefe’s dead. And ... and somebody else is dead——” - -“Not Leoncia!” Francis cried out. - -Henry shook his head. - -“Some one of the Solanos——old Enrico?” - -“No; your wife, Mrs. Morgan. Torres shot her, deliberately shot her. I -was beside her when she fell. Now hold on, I’ve got other news. -Leoncia’s right there in that other office, and she’s waiting for you to -come to her.—Can’t you wait till I’m through? I’ve got more news that -will give you the right steer before you go in to her. Why, hell’s -bells, if I were a certain Chinaman that I know, I’d make you pay me a -million for all the information I’m giving you for nothing.” - -“Shoot——what is it?” Francis demanded impatiently. - -“Good news, of course, unadulterated good news. Best news you ever -heard. I—now don’t laugh, or knock my block off——for the good news is -that I’ve got a sister.” - -“What of it?” was Francis’ brusque response. “I always knew you had -sisters in England.” - -“But you don’t get me,” Henry dragged on. “This is a perfectly brand new -sister, all grown up, and the most beautiful woman you ever laid eyes -on.” - -“And what of it?” growled Francis. “That may be good news for you, but I -don’t see how it affects me.” - -“Ah, now we’re coming to it,” Henry grinned. “You’re going to marry her. -I give you my full permission——” - -“Not if she were ten times your sister, nor if she were ten times as -beautiful,” Francis broke in. “The woman doesn’t exist I’d marry.” - -“Just the same, Francis boy, you’re going to marry this one. I know it. -I feel it in my bones. I’d bet on it.” - -“I’ll bet you a thousand I don’t.” - -“Aw, go on and make it a real bet,” Henry drawled. - -“Any amount you want.” - -“Done, then, for a thousand and fifty dollars.—Now go right into the -office there and take a look at her.” - -“She’s with Leoncia?” - -“Nope; she’s by herself.” - -“I thought you said Leoncia was in there.” - -“So I did, so I did. And so Leoncia _is_ in there. And she isn’t with -another soul, and she’s waiting to talk with you.” - -By this time Francis was growing peevish. - -“What are you stringing me for?” he demanded. “I can’t make head nor -tale of your foolery. One moment it’s your brand new sister in there, -and the next moment it’s your wife.” - -“Who said I ever had a wife?” Henry came back. - -“I give up!” Francis cried. “I’m going on in and see Leoncia. I’ll talk -with you later on when you’re back in your right mind.” - -He started for the door, but was stopped by Henry. - -“Just a second more, Francis, and I’m done,” he said. “I want to give -you that steer. I am not married. There is only one woman waiting for -you in there. That one woman is my sister. Also is she Leoncia.” - -It required a dazed half minute for Francis to get it clearly into his -head. Again, and in a rush, he was starting for the door, when Henry -stopped him. - -“Do I win?” queried Henry. - -But Francis shook him off, dashed through the door, and slammed it after -him. - - - THE END. - - - CAHILL & CO., LTD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND DUBLIN - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ - │ BOOKS BY JACK LONDON │ - ├─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ - │ │ - │MICHAEL BROTHER OF JERRY 6s. net│ - │ │ - │ _Daily Graphic_—“A clever and intimate study of a thoroughbred │ - │ dog—full of adventure.” │ - │ │ - │ │ - │JERRY OF THE ISLANDS 6s.│ - │ │ - │ _Globe_—“The finest he has ever done.” │ - │ │ - │ │ - │TURTLES OF TASMAN (Entirely New) 1s. 6d. net│ - │ │ - │THE STRENGTH OF THE STRONG 6s. and 1s. 6d. net│ - │ │ - │ _Athenæum_—“All worth reading.” │ - │ │ - │ │ - │THE NIGHTBORN 6s. and 1s. 6d. net│ - │ │ - │ _Punch_—“I defy you to read them and think of the Bosches at the │ - │ same time.” │ - │ │ - │ │ - │THE LITTLE LADY OF THE BIG HOUSE 6s. and 1s. 6d. net│ - │ │ - │ “A real Londonian romance.” │ - │ │ - │ │ - │THE JACKET 6s. and 1s. 6d. net│ - │ │ - │ _Times_—“Mr. London at his best. 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