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Show ' " , The Land i of Broken Promises 1 A Stirring Story of the 1 Mexican Revolution By DANE COOLIDGE Auihm if "The Fighrinff Fool." "Hidden Water." '"The Tejtican," Etc. (Copyright, 1914, by Frank A, Munsey.) 14 CHAPTER XXII Continued. "Let the Mexicans fight it out," he said.. "They might resent it if you took sides, and that would make it bad for us. Just wait a while you never can tell what will happen. Perhap6 the - rurales and federals will stand them . off." "What, that little bunch?" demanded Bud, pointing soornfully at the handful hand-ful of defender' who were cowering behind their rocr: piles. "Why half of them pelones don't know what a gun " was made for, and the rurales " "Well, the rebels are the same," suggested sug-gested the superintendent pacifically. "Let them fight it out we need every American we can get, so just forget about being a Mexican." "All right," agreed Bud, as he yield-; yield-; ed reluctantly to reason. "It ain't because be-cause I'm a Mexican citizen I just want to 6top that rush." He walked back to the house, juggling jug-gling his useless gun and keeping his eye on the distant ridges. And then, in a chorus of defiant yells, the men in the federal trenches began to shoot. In an airline the distance was something some-thing over a mile, but at the first scattering scat-tering volley the rebels halted and ' fired a volley in return. With a vicious spang a few 6tray bullets smashed against the reverberating steel tank, but no ono was hurt, and the defenders, defend-ers, drunk with valor, began to shoot and yell like mad. The bullets of the rebels, fired at - random, struck up dust-jets in every direction, and from the lower part of the town came the shouting of the non-combatant non-combatant Mexicans as they ran here i and there for shelter. But by the : trenches, and in the rear of the black tank, the great crowd of onlookers persisted, ducking as each successive bullet hit the tank and shouting encouragement en-couragement as the defenders emptied , their rifles and reloaded with clip after - clip. The rifles rattled a continuous volley; vol-ley; spent bullets leaped like locusts across the flat; men ran to and fro, .. now crouching behind the tank, now stepping boldly into the open; and the defiant shouts of the defenders almost drowned the wails of the women. Ex- v cept for one thing it was a battle there was nobody hurt. ; For the first half-hour the Ameri- , -cans stayed prudently under cover, ., busying themselves at thfl suggestion of a few American women In providing : & first-aid hospital on the sheltered porch. Then, as no wounded came to fill it and the rebels delayed their ' charge, one man after another climbed np to the trenches, ostensibly to bring -down the injured. As soldiers and bystanders reported no one hit, and the bullets flew harm- i lessly past, their solicitude turned rapidly rap-idly to disgust and then to scorn. 'i Strange as it may seem, the? were dis-appointed dis-appointed at the results, and their re- : marks were derogatory as they commented com-mented on the bravery of polones and r. Mexicans in general. From a dread of imminent attack, of charging rebels and retreating defend- ; era, and a fight to the death by the ; house, they came suddenly to a desire v for blood and battle, for dea(5 men and -the cries of the wounded; -and all fear of the insurrectos left them. '.. "Come away, boys," grunted the . burly roadmaster, who up to then had ". led in the work; "we wastedr our time on that hospital there'll be no wound- :i ed. Let's take ourselves back to the house and hav a quiet smpke." ;: "Right you are, Ed," agreed the master mas-ter mechanic, as he turned upon his heel in disgust. "This ain't war them Mexicans think they're working ' for a moving-picture show!" "I bet you I can go up on that ridge," announced Hooker, "and clean out the whole bunch with my six- ' shooter before you could bat your ' eye." But the superintendent was not so sure. ; "Never mind, boys," he said. "We're i worth a lot of ransom money to those rebels and they won't give tip so quick. And look at this now my miners com-ing com-ing back! Those are the boys that will j fight! Wait till Chico and Ramon 6:i IMendoza get after them!" 4 lie pointed as he spoke to a straggling strag-gling band of Sonorans, led by the much-vaunted Mendoza brothers, as they hurried to save the town, and a cheer went up from the trenches as the federals beheld reinforcements. But a change had come over the fire-eating fire-eating miners, and they brought other rebels in their wake. As they trudged wearily Into town and sought shelter among the houses a great body of men appeared on the opposite ridge, firing down at them as they retreated. The battle rapidly turned into a long-distance shooting contest, with the rebels on the ridges and the defenders In the valley, and finally, as the day wore on and a thunderstorm thun-derstorm came up, it died out altogether alto-gether and the rebels turned back to their camp. Except for one lone federal who had shot himself by accident there wag not a single defender hurt, and if the enemy had suffered losses it was only by some such chance. But when the Sonoran patriots, holding up their empty belts, came clamoring for ammunition, am-munition, the men by the big house took in the real catastrophe of the battle. Seventeen thousand rounds of the precious thirty-thirties had been delivered de-livered to the excited miners and now, except for what few the Americans had saved, there was not a cartridge in camp. Very soberly the superintendent assured the leaders that he had no more; they pointed at the full belts of the American guard and demanded them as their right; and when the Americans refused to yield they flew into a rage and threatened. All in all, it was a pitiful exhibition of hot-headedness and imbecility, and osly the firmness of the superintendent superintend-ent prevented a real spilling of blood. The Mexicans retired in a huff and broke into the cantina, and as the night camo on the valley re-echoed to their drunken shoutings. Such was war as the Sonorans conceived con-ceived it. When Hooker, standing his guard in the corredor, encountered Gracia Aragon on her evening wTalk, he could scarcely conceal a grin. "What are you laughing at, Senor Hooker?" she demanded with asperity. "Is it so pleasant, with a houseful of frightened women and screaming children, chil-dren, that you 6hould make fun of our plight?" "No, indeed," apologized Bud; "nothing "noth-ing like that. Sure must be bad in there I stay outside myself. But I reckon it'll soon be over with. The Mexicans here in town have shot off all their ammunition and I reckon the rebels have done the same. Like as not they'll all be gone tomorrow, and then you can go back home." "Oh, thank you for thinking about me!" she returned with a scornful curl of the lip. "But if all men were as open as you, Mr. Hooker, we women would never need to ask a question. This morning you told me I did not know what I was talking about now 1 presume you are thinking what cowards cow-ards the Mexicans are! "Oh, I know! You need not deny it! You are nothing but a great big Te-jano! Te-jano! Yes, I was going to say 'brute,' but you are a friend of dear Phil's, and so I will hold my tongue. If it wasn't for that, I'd " She paused, leaving him to guess. "Oh, I do wish he were here," she breathed, leaning wearily against the white pillar of an arch and gazing down through the long arcade. "It was so close in there," she continued, con-tinued, "I could not stand it a minute longer. These Indian women, you know they weep and moan all the time. And the children I am so sorry for them. I cannot go now, because they need me; but tomorrow if Phil were here I would leave and ride for the line. "Have you seen Del Rey today? No? Then all the better he must be policing polic-ing the town. It is only of him I am afraid. These rebels are nothing I agree with you! No! I am not angry with you at all now! But tomorrow, just at dusk, when all is still as it is at this time, then, if Phil were here I would mount my brave horse and ride out by the western pass." She ended rather inconclusively, letting let-ting her voice trail off wistfully as she waited for him to speak, but something within moved Hooker to hold his peace, and he looked out over the town without commenting on her plans. It was evident to him that she was determined deter-mined to enlist his sympathy and involve in-volve him in her wild plot, and each time the conversation veered in that direction he took refuge in a stubborn silence. "What are you thinking of, Mr. Hooker?" she asked at last, as he gazed into the dusk. "Sometimes I scold you and sometimes I try to please you, but I never know what you think! I did not mean that when I said I could read your thoughts you are so different from poor, dear Phil!" "M-m-m," mumbled Bud, shifting his feet, and his face turned a little grim. "Aha!" she cried with ill-concealed satisfaction, "you do not like me to call him like that, do you? 'Poor, dear Phil,' like that! But do you know why I do it? It is to punish you for never coming near me when I signed to you when I waited for you long ago! Ah, you were so cruel! I wanted want-ed to know you you were a cowboy, and I thought you were brave enough to defend me but you always rode right by. Yes, that was it but Phil was different! He came when I sent for him; he sang songs to me at night; he took my part against Manuel del Rey; and now " "Yes!" commented Bud bruskly, with his mind on "dear Phil's" finish, and she turned to peer into his face. "So that is it!" she said. "You do not trust me. You think that I am not your friend that I will serve you as he was served. Is that what you are thinking?" "Something like that," admitted Hooker, leaning lazily against the mud wall. "Only I reckon I don't think just the way you do." "Why? How do I think?" she demanded de-manded eagerly. "Well, you think awful fast," answered an-swered Hooker slowly. "And you don't always think the same, seems like. I'm kind of quiet myself, and I don't like well, I wouldn't say that, but you don't always mean what you say." "Oh!" breathed Gracia, and then, after a pause, she came nearer and leaned against the low wall beside him. "If I would speak from my heart," she asked, "if I would talk plain, as you Americans do, would you like me better then? Would you talk to me Instead of standing silent? Listen, Bud for that is your name I want you to be my friend the way you were a friend to Phil. I know what you did for him, and how you bore with his love-madness and that was my fault, too. But partly it was also your fault, for you made me angry by not coming. "Yes, I will be honest now it was you that I wanted to know at first, but you would not come, and now I am promised to Phil. He was brave when you were careful, and my heart went out to him. You know how it is with us Mexicans we do not love by reason. rea-son. We love like children suddenly from the heart! And now all I wish in life is to run away to Phil. But every time I speak of it you shut your jaws or tell me I am a fool." "Ump-um," protested Bud, turning stubborn again. "I tell you you don't know what you're talking about. These rebels don't amount to nothing around the town, but on a trail they're awful. They shoot from behind rocks and all that, and a woman ain't noways safe. You must know what they're like these old women don't think about nothing else so what's the use of talking! talk-ing! And besides," he added grimly, "I've had some trouble with your old man and don't want to have any more." "What trouble have you had?" she demanded promptly, but Hooker would not answer in words. He only shrugged his shoulders and turned away, crumpling his hat in his hand. "But no!" she cried as she sensed the meaning of his concealment, "you must tell me! I want to know. Was it over your mine? Then you must not blame me, for he never has told me a word!" "No?" inquired Bud, rousing suddenly sudden-ly at the memory of his wrongs. "Then maybe you will tell me how he got this" he fetched a worn piece of ore from his pocket "when my pardner gave it to you! It was right there I lost my pardner and he was a good kid, too and all because of that rock. Here, take a look at it I took that away from your father!" "Then he stole it from me!" flashed back Gracia as she gazed at the specimen. speci-men. "Oh, have you thought all the time that I betrayed Phil? But didn't I tell you didn't I tell you at the hotel, when you promised to be my friend? Ah, I see that you are a hard man, Mr. Hooker quick to suspect, slow to forget and yet I told you before! be-fore! But listen, and I will tell you again. I remember well when dear Phil showed me this rock he was so happy because he had found the gold! And just to make it lucky he let me hold it while we were talking through a hole in the wall. Then my father saw me and started to come near I could not hand it back without betraying betray-ing Phil and in the night, when I was asleep, some one took it from under un-der my pillow. That is the truth, and I will ask you to believe me; and if you have other things against me you must say w.hat they are and see if I cannot explain. "No!" she ran on, her voice vibrant with the memory of past quarrels, "I have nothing to do with my father! He does not love me, but tries to make ma marry first one man and then another. an-other. But I am an American girl now, at heart I do not want to sell mysel?; I want to marry for love! Can you understand that? Yes? No? Then why do you look away? Have you something that you hold against me? Ah, you shake your head but you will not speak to me? When I was at school In Los Angeles I saw the cowboys cow-boys in the west show, and they were different they were not afraid of any danger, but they would talk, too. I have always wanted to know you, but you will not let me I thought you were brave like those cowboys." She paused to make him speak, but Hooker was tongue-tied. There wu something about the way she talked that pulled him over, that mude him want to do what she said, and yet some secret, hidden voice was always crying: "Beware!" He was convinced now that she had never been a party to treachery; no, nor even wished him ill. She -was very beautiful, too, In the twilight, and when she drew nearer he moved away, for he was afraid she would sway him from hie purpose. But now she was waiting for some answer an-swer some word from him, though the question had never been asked. And yet he knew what it was. She wanted him to steal away with her in the evening and ride for the border and Phil. That was what she always wanted, no matter what she said, and now she was calling him a coward. "Sure them bronco-riders are brave," he said in vague defense; "but there's a difference between being brave and foolish. And a man might be brave for himself and yet be afraid for other people." "How do you mean?" she asked. "Well," he said, "I might be willing to go out and fight a thousand of them Insurrectos with one hand, and at the same time be afraid to take you along. Or I might" "Oh, then you will go, won't you?" she cried, clasping him by the hand. "You will, won't you? I'm not afraid!" "No," answered Bud, drawing his hand away, "that's just what I won't dot And I'll tell you why. That country coun-try up there is full of rebels the lowest low-est kind there are. It just takes one shot to lay me out or cripple one of our horses. Then I'd have to make a fight for it but what would happen to you?" "I'd fight, too!" spoke up Gracia resolutely. "I'm not afraid." "No," grumbled Bud, "you don't know them rebels. You've been shut up in a house all the time if you'd been through what I have in the last six months you'd understand what I mean." "If Phil were here, he'd take me!" countered Gracia, and then Bud lost his head. "Yes," he burst out, "that's jest what's the matter with the crazy fool! That's jest why he's up across the line now a hollering for me to save his girl! He's brave, is he? Well, why don't he come down, then, and save you himself? Because he's afraid to! He's afraid of getting shot or going up against Manuel del Rey. By grab, it makes me tired the way you people talk! If he'd done what I told him to in the first place he wouldn't have got into this jack-pot!" "Oh my!" exclaimed Gracia, aghast. "Why, what is the matter with you? And what did you tell him to do?" "I told him to mind his own business," busi-ness," answered Hooker bluntly. "And what did he say?" "He said he'd try anything once!" Bud spat out the phrase vindictively, for his blood was up and his heart was full of bitterness. "Oh dear!" faltered Gracia. "And so you do not think that Phil is brave?" "He's brave to start things," sneered Bud, "but not to carry 'em through!" For a moment Gracia huddled up against a pillar, her hand against her face, as if to ward off a blow. Then she lowered it slowly and moved reluctantly re-luctantly away. "I must go now," she said, and Bud did not offer to stay her, for he saw what his unkindness had done. "I am sorry!" she added pitifully, but he did not answer. There was nothing that he could say now. In a moment of resentment, driven to exasperation by her taunts, he had forgotten his pledge to his pardner and come between him and his girl. That which he thought wild horses could not draw from him had flashed out in a fit of anger and the damage was beyond amendment, for what he had said was the truth. CHAPTER XXIII. There are two things, according to the saying, which cannot be recalled the sped arrow and the spoken word. Whether spoken in anger or in jest, our winged thoughts will not come back to us and, where there is no balm for the wound we have caused, there is nothing to do but let it heal. Bud Hooker was a man of few words, and slow to speak ill of anyone, but some unfamiliar devil had loosened his tongue and he had told the worst about Phil. Certainly if a man' were the bravest of the brave, certainly if he loved his girl more than life itself he would not be content to hide above the line and pour out his soul on note-paper. But to tell it to the girl that was an unpardonable sin! Still, now that the damage was done, there was no use of vain repining, and after cursing himself whole-heartedly Bud turned in for the night. Other days were coming; there were favors he might do; and perhaps, as the yesterdays yes-terdays went by, Gracia would forgive him for his plain speaking. Even tomorrow, to-morrow, if the rebels came back for more, he might square himself in action ac-tion and prove that he was not a coward. cow-ard. A coward 1 It had been a long time since anyone any-one had used that word to him, but after the way he had knifed "dear Phil" he had to admit he was it. But "dear Phil!" It was that which had set him off. If she knew how many other girls but Bud put a sudden quietus on that particular line of thought. As long as the world stood and Gracia was in his sight he swore never to speak ill of De Lancey again, and thei )he went to sleep. The men who guarded the casa. grande slept uneasily on the porch, lying down like dogs on empty sugar-sacks sugar-sacks that the women might not lack bedding inside. Even at that they were better off, for the house was close and feverish, with the crying of babies and the babbling of dreamers, and mothers moving to and fro. It was a hectic night, but Bud slept it out, and at dawn, after the custom of his kind, he arose and stamped on his boots. The moist coolness of the morning brought the odor of wet greasewood and tropic blossoms to his nostrils as he stepped out to speak with the guards, and as he stood there waiting for the full daylight the master mas-ter mechanic joined him. He was a full-blooded, round-headed little man with determined views on life, and he began the day, as usual, with his private opinion of Mexicans. They were the same uncomplimentary remarks to which he had given voice on the day before, for the rebels had captured one of his engines and he knew it would come to some harm. "A fine bunch of hombres, yes," he ended, "and may the devil fly away with them! They took No. 9 at the summit yesterday and I've been listening lis-tening ever since. Her pans are all burned out and we've been feeding her bran like a cow to keep her from leaking steam. If some ignorant Mex gets hold of her you'll hear a big noise that'll be the last of No. 9 her boiler will burst like a wet bag. "If I was running this road there'd be no more bran not since what I saw over at Aguascalientes on the Central. Cen-tral. One of those bum, renegade engine en-gine drivers had burned out No. 743, but the rebels had ditched four of our best and we had to send her out Day after day the boys had been feeding her bran until she smelled like a distillery. dis-tillery. The mash was oozing out of her as Ben Tyrrell pulled up to the station, and a friend of his that had come down from the north took one sniff and swung up into the cab. "Ben came down at the word he whispered for they'd two of 'em blowed up in the north and they sent out another man. Hadn't got up the hill when the engine exploded and blew the poor devil to hell! I asked Tyrrell what his friend had told him, but he kept it to himself until he could get his time. It's the fumes, boy they blow up like brandy and old No. 9 is sour! "She'll likely blow up, too. But how can we fix her with these ignorant Mexican mechanics? You should have been over at Aguas the day they fired the Americans. " 'No more Americanos,' says Madera, Ma-dera, 'let 'em all out and hire Mexicans! Mexi-cans! The national railroads of Mexico Mex-ico must not be in the hands of foreigners.' for-eigners.' "So they fired us all in a day and put a Mexican wood-passer up in the cab of old No. 313. He started to pull a string of empties down the track, threw on the air by mistake, and stopped her on a dead-center. Pulled out the throttle and she wouldn't go, so he gave it up and quit. "Called in the master mechanic then a Mexican. He tinkered with her for an hour, right there on the track, until she went dead on their hands. Then they ran down a switch engine and took back the cars and called on the roadmaster a Mex. He cracked the nut built a shoo-fly around No. 313 and they left her right there on the main track. Two days later an American hobo came by and set down and laughed at 'em. Then he throws off the brakes, gives No. 313 a boost past the center with a crowbar, and runs her to the roundhouse by gravity. When we left Aguas on a handcar that hobo was running the road. "Ignorantest hombres in the world these Mexicans. Shooting a gun or running an engine, it's all the same they've got nothing above the eyebrows." eye-brows." "That's right," agreed Bud, who had been craning his neck; "but what's that noise up the track?" The master mechanic listened, and when his ears, dulled by the clangor of the shops, caught the distant roar he turned and ran for the house. "Git up, Ed!" he called to the roadmaster, road-master, "they're sending a wild car down the canyon and she may be loaded with dynamite!" "Dynamite or not," mumbled the grizzled roadmaster, as he roused up from his couch, "there's a derailer I put in up at kilometer seventy the first thing yesterday morning. That'll send her into the ditch!" Nevertheless he listened Intentfy, cocking his head to guess by the sound when it came to kilometer seventy. (TO BE CONTINUED.) |
