The Missourian

by Eugene P. Lyle

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  MIKE

  "Quand on est aime d'une belle femme, on se tire toujours d'affaire." --_Zoroaster, vide Voltaire_

  The Storm Centre chafed under a mad desire to verify his name, which wasnot unusual. But it was the first time he had ever craved active dangeras an antidote for his thoughts. The sound of bars lifting came as arelief, and he shook off the dark mood and was himself. Before the dooropened, he thrust her letter into the candle flame. He had kept it tillthe last minute, but now he burned it, as she knew he would.

  Instead of executioners, he beheld a tray, gripped by chocolate hands.Involuntarily he looked up to the face above the tray.

  "Johnny the Baptist!" he exclaimed. "Well, well, how goes it itself toYour Mercy this evening?"

  "Pues bien, senor," returned the Baptist, grinning sheepishly. "Would,would Y'r Mercy like another bath?" The grimace was not unamiable. Itbetokened that this time he, and not the prisoner, might have a game toplay.

  "A thousand thanks," replied Driscoll, "but I'll try to make that otherbath answer."

  "But senor, you wasted it."

  "Well, perhaps so. You see, Johnny, it was this way. I had only one bathcoming, and on the other hand there were two things to save. Do youknow, Johnny, I've been mortified ever since, to think how I squanderedmy one bath in saving just my life, and how I left my soul to bustlealong for itself."

  The Baptist drew nearer. "But suppose, senor," he whispered, "supposethe need of absolution was again postponed, even now?"

  Driscoll's fork stopped half way to his mouth. There was no superstitionin the affair this time. The once gullible Dragoon, moreover, wasplaying all the leads. "Of course," Driscoll agreed heartily, "I'dcertainly like it right well," and he went on eating. But his wits werein a receptive state, alert for the meaning when it should come. Theopening innuendoes exasperated him, for the guard was a clumsy agent.The man must needs feign a great dread of discovery, and tremble lesthis colonel, Don Miguel Lopez, should find him out. As though supper,instead of a shooting squad, did not belie it all?

  "Still your move, Johnny," Driscoll had to remind him.

  In the end it was to be gathered that Don Benito Juarez, the fugitiveSenor Presidente of the fugitive Republic, might welcome an offer ofConfederate aid, and 'twas a pity that the condemned senor should haveno chance to escape. But if he did escape, he might find his way to theSenor Presidente far off in the state of Chihuahua.

  So, the cards were dealt at last. Driscoll looked over his hand. Herecognized a crooked game, a game of treachery and dark dealing; buteven so he perceived that a trump or two had fallen to him, perhapsunwittingly, and he decided to "sit in for a spell."

  He began, with coy hesitancy, to beat his scruples around the bush,which was not a bad lead. Supposing he turned his offer from Maximilianto President Juarez, wouldn't it, well, look as though he did so to savehis hide? Brown Johnny opened his eyes as at something unfamiliar.Driscoll went on. If he were shot, how was he to go to Juarez? But ifhe, uh, happened to get loose, he might just possibly be influenced tothink of the Juarez proposal. But actually buying his way out would lookdishonorable. "Now," he concluded abruptly, "run along, and put it thatway to whoever sent you."

  The man protested, and in some genuine alarm, that he had no employers.

  "Oh all right," said Driscoll easily, "then you're bound to help me.Because if you don't, I'll sure tell Lopez what you've just been tryingto hatch up here."

  The trap worked beautifully, for the guard tried hard to quake. But hisfright was not spontaneous enough. Driscoll smiled. Now he knew the realplayer in the game.

  "Cheer up, Johnny," he spoke soothingly, "I'd not tell on you. Buthadn't you better go and think it over by yourself a little?"

  The Baptist would hasten straight to Lopez, and Lopez, Driscoll foresaw,would interpret his scruples into a disguised acceptance. Thecrookedness of the game left the American no other trump, and he playedit--against immediate death. Lopez, of course, would send him underguard to Juarez, but Driscoll thought he could trust that staunch oldRoman, when once informed, to call for a new deck and an honest deal.

  Juan Bautista "thought it over" outside, and directly returned with ananswer. But when he again left Driscoll, he did not bar the door behindhim. Within ten minutes thereafter Driscoll was creeping past a sleepingsentinel, on between rows of maguey, toward the road. Around him hoveredfive or six shadows. They were to be his escort and take him to Juarez.They would join him openly a safe distance away, at a place where theirhorses waited. But as he emerged upon the road, for the moment alone, avoice in French challenged sharply. "Halte-la!"

  The shadows hesitated an instant, then showed themselves with energy.They sprang out and closed on their "escaped" prisoner. They handled himmore roughly than did the Contra Guerrillas, who had first cried "Halt,"and who were now appearing as by magic. The blended anger andgratification of the shadows over the escape and recapture wasvociferously sincere.

  "Take them all, mes enfants," a huge tone of command filled thedarkness. It was Colonel Dupin. He had that moment arrived. Jacqueline'smessage had reached him in the City not an hour before. The American hadescaped, it said; he was at Tuxtla. The Tiger, knowing nothing of Lopezlying in wait for the same American at the same place, had dismountedhis men, surrounded town and farms, and was closing in, when Driscollhimself fell among them.

  The interview between Dupin and Lopez brewed stormy at first. The latterturned gray under his ruddy skin when Dupin walked in upon him in thefront room of the farmhouse. But seeing that his own men were holdingDriscoll, he nervously congratulated them upon the capture.

  "How did he escape this second time?" demanded the Frenchman. "It seemsto me, mon colonel, that the question would occur to you too."

  Lopez was sufficiently alive to his peril. He quickly sent two Dragoonsto the temporary guard house to investigate. Dupin curtly ordered twoCossacks to accompany them. Soon they brought back the sentinel who hadbeen conveniently asleep when Driscoll slipped past. The sentinel rubbedhis eyes as he faced Lopez. So far everything had passed according toarrangement, and he looked for a severe mock examination. But the Tigerhad been left out of the calculations, and the Tiger forthwithshouldered himself into the inquisition.

  "Do you understand, Colonel Lopez, that your guard here was asleep? Si,senor, asleep! What now, mon colonel, is the little custom as to guardswho sleep?"

  Lopez glared at the sentinel. It was a fine simulation of outrageddiscipline, and so life-like that when he spoke of a court martial, theculprit weakened. He opened his mouth. At that Lopez's stern angerbecame real. He feared the sentinel would tell all he knew.

  "Si senor," cried Lopez, "we don't have to be taught, we Mexicans. Weshoot them. Here, six of you, out with him! Quick, before he can whine!"

  "Go with them," added Dupin quietly to six of his Cossacks.

  The sentinel was dragged out. His cries, whether for mercy or not, weresmothered first by a sabre belt, and then for all time by musketry. TheCossacks returned and assured their chief that the execution was bonafide. This allayed Dupin's suspicions.

  "Permit me to suggest, Colonel Lopez," he said courteously, "that youlikewise honor our friend the American. I came from the City to do itmyself, but it is a pleasure to give way before your superiorvigilance."

  It had already occurred to Lopez that Driscoll also might talk. "You arevery amiable, Senor Dupin," he replied. "My court martial found himguilty, and as a matter of fact, he would have paid the penalty by nowhad Your Mercy not arrived. Between us, Colonel Dupin, he will hardlyescape a third time."

  At his command six of the crack Dragoons stood forth. They were brown,and Mexicans. Lopez bowed to Dupin, who called forth as many Contras.The Contras were of variously hued races, but they were all the Tiger'swhelps. The file of Dragoons was jaunty crimson, the other corroded red.Driscoll fell in meekly between them.

  "Sacred name of a dog, you are honor
ed, senor!" Dupin exclaimedreprovingly. It angered him when a victim quailed. The present one oughtto appreciate, too, that he was answering for two besides himself, forMurguia and Rodrigo, whose escape had wrenched the old warrior's bowels.

  The Storm Centre glanced at the picked hussars, at the famously infamousCossacks, and assented modestly. So plain in gray, he did indeed lookcolorless among them. The Contra at his elbow was an American, whosebrutish, swaggering scowl meant the world to know what a bad man he was.The type gives the decent citizen a mad desire to be bad himself justonce, only long enough to prove the tough a contemptible sham.Driscoll's neighbor leered ferociously, that the prisoner flanked bysabres and muskets might respect him and be cowed. Driscoll kept him inmind, and in the tail of his eye.

  There was one anxiety for the Storm Centre. If they should bind him! Butthey had not, he was so docile. And as they marched out the door, heexulted, and could hardly wait. Wouldn't it be a lovely row, though!Just one good, last good time! He did not feel hard toward them, notwhen they had left off the ropes. He felt that he was to have valuereceived, and all the while he figured out his desperate campaign.

  As they passed outside beyond the window's sphere of light, docilitychanged to whirlwind. A blow with his left, a jerk with his right, andhe had the tough's carbine. He swung it between the two files, a grazingcircle. He got blows in return, but not a man fired. That was because ofthe darkness, and a first shot would inspire a wild, general fusillade,endangering them all. As it was, the blows were impartial, except one,which came down with pointed favoritism on the tough's cranium. Afterthat Driscoll helped one side or another, and when they were nicelymixed, he ran. He got as far as the road, but to find a troop of cavalrycharging down upon him. Changing ends with the carbine, he fired fromthe waist at the leader of the new arrivals. This leader dropped hissabre, plunged heavily, and was dragged by the stirrup. Driscoll had notthe time to change back to club musket, he used the barrel as such. Butbeing for the instant alone, he was marked out, and Cossacks andDragoons threw themselves upon him and brought him down.

  "It _was_ lovely," he muttered under the heap.

  They brought him back to the house, swathed in a mesh of lariats. Lopezawaited them, frothing oaths. Dupin was there too, and he looked anepicure's satisfaction as they stood his victim against the wall. He didnot regret the incident, since it had turned porridge into so choice amorsel.

  "'Tis you, monsieur," he confessed with rugged grace, "who have honoredus."

  "Oh, your grandmother!" said Driscoll.

  "Well, be patient. It will be all over in a minute more."

  The Tiger was, in fact, ordering the shooting squad, when through theopen door glittering helmets and excited French and clanking sabresflooded the room. It was still another wondrous uniform for Driscoll,this of the cuirassiers, with so much of brass, and a queue of horse'shair, and loose pantaloons that merged into gigantic black boots. Inthey strode, an agitated host of bristling moustaches, while outside wasthe restless sound of many hard breathed horses. The cuirassiers boretheir wounded leader, and laid him on the iron bed in the room. But theman struggled to his feet. He called loudly for "Monsieur le Colonel,"and only by force, though gentle, could they hold him quiet.

  "What is it?" responded both Dupin and Lopez.

  "I, I mean the American Colonel. He--he----"

  "Hello, Mike!" cried Driscoll.

  He could not see for the others, nor move, but he recognized the voiceof Michel Ney. He knew, too, that Michel must be the cavalry leader hehad just shot. "Darn it, Mike!" he exclaimed, "I'm sorry! But weren'tthere enough of 'em without you?"

  "Monsieur Ney," the Tiger interrupted, "let your men tend you here, andwe will be back at once to see what can be done for your hurt. But justnow----"

  He signed to Lopez, and Cossacks and Dragoons caught up the prisoner andstarted for the door.

  "Wait!" Ney moaned feebly.

  "Tonnerre, mon prince, your wound must be paid for, first. Hurry there,Messieurs les Imbeciles!"

  "Wait!" Ney gasped. He half raised himself, but sank back with closingeyes. He made a gesture to his breast. All halted as in the presence ofdeath.

  "Help him, you there!" cried Driscoll. "Open his coat!"

  The cuirassiers, eager, awkward nurses, fluttered round the bed, andtore away the sky-blue jacket, thinking to find the wound beneath.Instead, they drew out a paper. One of them read the address on it.

  "Al Senor Coronel Don Miguel Lopez."

  Lopez broke the seal, frowned, and put the message in his pocket."Nothing--oh, nothing important," he volunteered. "Now, once for all,let us finish our work."

  "Wait!" a faint whisper came from the bed.

  "He says to wait," doggedly repeated a cuirassier.

  "Yes, wait," Driscoll pleaded suddenly. "Just a minute, before I go,before we both go, perhaps,"--he thought in a flash that it might be alast word from Jacqueline--"perhaps, gentlemen, he, he has something totell me."

  But Ney's head, moving weakly on the pillow, was a negative.

  The prisoner's voice grew firm again.

  "Then hurry up!" he ordered in the old querulous drawl. "Don't you knowI'm in a hurry?"

  Ney opened his eyes as he heard the shuffling of feet. Men were carryingout the prisoner. With feeble anger he brushed aside the hand of acuirassier who was trying to staunch the blood at his groin.

  "I--I----" His lips barely moved.

  The cuirassier sprang to his feet. He looked to his fellows, spoke tothem. Puzzled, mystified, they rushed to the door and barred the way.

  "We don't know why we came," stammered one, "and he can't speak. But hissigns are enough for us. It's, it's----"

  "It's something to do with the American," declared a second cuirassier.

  Dupin pounded back his half unsheathed blade. Brusquely he wheeled andfaced the colonel of Dragoons. "Lopez," he roared, "what was thatmessage?"

  "N-nothing, mi coronel, absolutely."

  "If it was from Maximilian, I'd know it to be a pardon, and not blameyou. But I recognized the marshal's seal, and that's different."

  Lopez blanched, yet insisted again that the message was nothing."Besides, senor," he added, "I do not take orders from His Excellency,the marshal."

  "But _I_ do," thundered Dupin. "And I see them obeyed too. Oh, youcan protest to your Emperor afterwards, my royal guardsman, if you wantto, but a marshal of France is the law when I am near."

  Grunting contemptuously, Dupin turned to the bedside. The cuirassiershad gathered cobwebs from the rafters, and were dressing the wound.Michel tossed and groaned in the beginning of delirium. Dupin mutteredwith vexation, but he took hold of the lad's wrist, and firmly closedhis hand over it.

  "Listen," he said, very distinctly, putting into his tones every timbreof quiet, compelling will. "Listen, hear me!"

  Slowly the feverish man grew still.

  "Hear me," said Dupin. "There are two questions--two, only two. You areto answer them.--You will shake your head, 'Yes,' or 'No'--do you hearme?"

  The Chasseur's eyes opened wide, and they were calm.

  "Good, that's the brave gentleman! Now then, steady. The first question:Shall we shoot this American?"

  Slowly, painfully, the head rocked on the pillow, from one side to theother.

  "It's 'No'!" cried a score of men.

  "Silence!" roared the Tiger. "Now, the second question: Does this ordercome from Marshal Bazaine?"

  Michel's chin sank to his breast. He groaned, he could not lift itagain.

  "Yes, thank----" Ney himself, his voice!

  Dupin swung round. "Colonel Lopez," he ordered savagely, "you will turnyour prisoner over to Sergeant Ney, at once, sir! Open your mouth, youdog, and every Dragooning dandy of a Mexican among you----"

  The Tiger's pistols were drawn. His whelps looked hopeful. Thecuirassiers bristled in sympathy.

  Cracking his finger nails, fawning to the marrow, Lopez agreed.

  "Unbind the prisoner," ordered Dupin.
/>   "Thank God!" came faintly from the bed.