CHAPTER III
THE GOVERNOR'S ANSWER
Judging that it was almost time for his interview with the governor,Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard in the public _establo_, or stable, and rodeat once to the governor's palace.
Although it did not occur to him that Quiroz would reject his plea foraid, he was filled with foreboding. He had a premonition that made himuneasy, although there seemed nothing at which to be alarmed.
Dismounting, he walked up the stone flags toward the presidioentrance--a huge, grated door guarded by two flashily dressed butbarefooted soldiers. They nodded for him to pass, and the Texan foundhimself in a long, half-lighted passage. Another guard directed himinto the office of Governor Quiroz, and Kid Wolf stepped throughanother carved door, hat in hand.
He found that he had entered a large, cool room, lighted softly bywindows of brightly colored glass and barred with wrought iron. Thetiles of the floor were in black-and-white design, and the place wasbare of furniture, except at one end, where a large desk stood.
Behind it, in a chair of rich mahogany, sat an impressive figure. Itwas the governor.
While bowing politely, the Texan searched the pale face of the man ofwhom he had heard so much. By looking at him, he thought he discoveredwhy Quiroz was so feared by the oppressed people of the district. Ironstrength showed itself in the official's aristocratic features.
There was something there besides power. Quiroz had eyes that weremysterious and deep. Not even the Texan could read the secrets theymasked. Cruelty might lurk there, perhaps, or friendliness--who couldsay? At the governor's soft-spoken invitation, Kid Wolf took a chairnear the huge desk.
"Your business with me, senor?" asked the official in smoothly spokenEnglish.
Kid Wolf spoke respectfully, although he did not fawn over thedignitary or lose his own quiet self-assertion. He was an American.He told of finding the tortured prospector and of the plight of theapproaching wagon train.
"If they continue on the course they are followin', guv'nor," heconcluded, "they'll nevah reach Santa Fe. And I have every reason tobelieve that The Terror plans to raid them."
"And what," asked the governor pleasantly, "do you expect me to do?"
"I thought, sah," Kid Wolf replied, "that yo' would let me return tothem with a company of yo' soldiers."
"My dear senor," the governor said with suave courtesy, "the people youwish to rescue are not subjects of mine."
Kid Wolf tried not to show the irritation he felt. "Surely, sah, yo'are humane enough to do this thing. I thought I told yo' theah's womenand children in the wagon train."
Quiroz rubbed his chin as if in thought. His eyes, however, seemed tosmolder with an emotion of which Kid Wolf could only guess the nature.The Spaniard's face was that of a hypnotist, with its thin,high-bridged nose and its chilling, penetrating gaze.
"Your name, senor?"
"Kid Wolf, from Texas, sah."
Spanish governors of that day had no reason to like gunmen from theLone Star State. From the time of Santa Anna, Texas fighters had beenthorns in their sides. But if Quiroz was thinking of this, he made nosign. He smiled with pleasure, either real or assumed.
"That is good," he said. "Senor Wolf, to show your good faith, willyou be kind enough to lay your weapons on my desk? It is a custom herenot to come armed in the presence of the governor."
Suspicion began to burn strongly in the back of the Texan's brain. WasQuiroz playing a crafty game? He was supposed to be friendly towardthose from the States, but once before, in California, Kid Wolf had haddealings with a Spanish governor. Instantly he was on his guard,although he did not allow his face to show it.
"I am an American, sah," he replied. "Some have called me a soldier ofmisfohtune. Anyway, I try and do good. What good I have done fo' theweak and oppressed, sah, I've done with these." The Kid tapped histwin Colts and went on: "I've twelve lead aces heah, sah, and I'm notin the habit of layin' 'em down."
"We're not playing cards, senor." Quiroz smiled pleasantly.
"No." Kid Wolf's quick smile flashed. "But if a game is stahted, Iwant a hand to play with."
His eyes were fixed on the carved front of the governor's desk. Thereseemed something strange about the carved design. He was seateddirectly in front of it, in the chair Quiroz had pointed out to him,and for the last few minutes he had wondered what it was that hadattracted his attention.
The desk was carved with a series of squares chiseled deep into thedark wood. In one of the squares was a black circle about the size ofa small silver piece. Somehow Kid Wolf did not like the looks of it.What it could be, he could hardly guess. The Texan had learned not totake chances. Slowly, and with his eyes still on the official'ssmiling face, he edged his chair away from it, an inch at a time. Hisprogress was slow enough not to attract Quiroz's attention.
"Then," asked the governor slowly, "you refuse, senor?"
"Yo'-all are a fine guessah, sah!" snapped the Texan, alert as a steelspring.
The governor moved his knee. There was a sharp report, and a streak offlame leaped from the desk front, followed by a puff of blue smoke.The bullet, however, knocked a slab of plaster from the opposite wall.Just in time, Kid Wolf had moved his chair from the range of the trapgun.
Quiroz's death-dealing apparatus had failed. The Texan's clevernesshad matched his own. Concealed in the desk had been a pistol, thetrigger of which had been pressed by the weight of the official's kneeon a secret panel. Quick as a flash, Kid Wolf was on his feet, handsflashing down toward his two .45s!
The governor, however, was not in the habit of playing a lone handagainst any antagonist. Behind Kid Wolf rang out a command in curtSpanish:
"Hands up!"
Kid Wolf's sixth sense warned him that he was covered with a dead drop.His mind worked rapidly. He could have drawn and taken the governor ofSanta Fe with him to death, perhaps cutting down some of the men behindhim, as well. But in that case, what would become of the wagon train,with no one to save them from The Terror? A vision of the littlegolden-haired child crossed his mind. No, while there was life, therewas hope. Slowly he took his hands away from his gun handles andraised them aloft.
Turning, he saw six soldiers, each with a rifle aimed at his breast.In all probability they had had their eyes on him during his audiencewith the governor. Quiroz snarled an order to them.
"Take away his guns!" he cried. Then, while the Texan was beingdisarmed, he took a long black cigarette from a drawer and lighted itwith trembling fingers.
"You are clever, senor," said the governor, recovering his composure."I am exceedingly sorry, but I will have to deal with you in a way youwill not like--the adobe wall." Quiroz bowed. "I bid you adios." Heturned to his soldiers. "Take him to the _calabozo_!" he orderedsharply.
The building that was then being used as Santa Fe's prison wasconstructed of adobe with tremendously thick walls and no windows. Theonly place light and air could enter the sinister building was througha grating the size of a man's hand in the huge, rusty iron door.
Kid Wolf was marched to the prison by his sextet of guards. While thedoor was being opened, he glanced around him, taking what might proveto be his last look at the sky. His eyes fell upon one of the walls ofthe jail. It was pitted with hundreds of little holes. The Texansmiled grimly. He knew what had made them--bullets. It was theexecution place!
The door clanged behind him, and a scene met The Kid's eyes that causedhim to shudder. In the big, dank room were huddled fourteen prisoners.Most of them were miserable, half-naked peons. It was intolerably hot,and the air was so bad as almost to be unbreathable.
The prisoners kept up a wailing chant--a hopeless prayer for mercy anddeliverance. A guttering candle shed a ghastly light over their thinbodies.
So this was what his audience with the governor had come to! What atyrant Quiroz had proved to be! Strangely enough, The Kid's thoughtswere not of his own terrible plight, but of the peril that awaited thewagon
train. If he could only escape this place, he might at leasthelp them. What a mistake he had made in going to the governor for aid!
His next thought was of his horse, Blizzard. What would become of him,if he, Kid Wolf, died? The Texan knew one thing for certain, thatBlizzard was free. Nobody could touch him save his master. He wasalso sure that the faithful animal awaited his beck and call. Thewhite horse was somewhere near and on the alert. Kid Wolf had trainedit well.
He soon saw that escape by ordinary means from the prison was quitehopeless. There was no guard to overpower, the walls were exceedinglythick, and the door impregnable.
Only one of the prisoners, Kid Wolf noted, was an American--a sicklyfaced youth of about the Texan's own age. A few questions brought outthe information that all the inmates of the jail were under sentence ofdeath.
The hours passed slowly in silent procession while the dying candleburned low in the poison-laden air. Kid Wolf paced the floor, his eyescool and serene.
His mind, however, was wide awake. When was he to be shot? In themorning? Or would his execution be delayed, perhaps for days?
The Texan never gave up hope, and he was doing more than hoping now--hewas planning carefully. Kid Wolf had a hole card. Had the Spanishsoldiers known him better, they would have used more care in disarminghim. But then, enemies of Kid Wolf had made that mistake before, totheir sorrow.
Clearly enough, he could not help the wagon train where he was. Hemust get out. But the only way to get out, it seemed, was to go outwith the firing squad--a rather unpleasant thing to do, to say theleast.
The tiny grated square in the jail door began to lighten. It grewbrighter. Day was breaking.
"It will soon be time for the beans," muttered the American youth.
"Will they give us breakfast?" asked the Texan.
The other laughed bitterly. "We'll have beans," he said shortly, "butwe won't eat them."
Not long afterward the iron door opened, and two soldiers entered,carrying a red earthenware olla. "Fifteen men," said one of them inSpanish, "counting the new one."
"Fifteen men," chanted the other in singsong voice. "Fifteen beans."
Kid Wolf's brows began to knit. At first he had thought that the beansmeant breakfast. Now he saw that something sinister was intended.Some sort of lottery was about to be played with beans.
"There are fourteen white beans," the young American whispered, "andone black one. We all draw. The man who gets the black bean dies thismorning."
The hair prickled on the Texan's head. Every morning theseunfortunates were compelled to play a grim game with death.
The prisoners were all quaking with terror, as they came up to the uglyred jug to take their chance for life. As much as these miserable mensuffered in this terrible place, existence was still dear to them.
One soldier shook the beans in the olla; the other stood back againstthe wall with leveled gun to prevent any outbreak. Then the lotterybegan.
Kid Wolf viewed the situation calmly, and decided that to try to wrestthe weapon from the soldier would be folly. Other soldiers werewatching through the grated door.
One by one, the prisoners drew. The opening in the olla was just largeenough for a hand to be admitted. All was blind chance, and no onecould see what he had drawn until his bean was out of the jug. Some ofthe peons screamed with joy after drawing their white beans. The blackone was still in the jar.
The two white men were the last to draw. Both took their beans andstepped to one side to look at them. It was an even break. Kid Wolfwas smiling; the other was trembling.
The eyes of Kid Wolf met the fear-stricken eyes of the other. Theystood close together. Each had looked at his bean. The sick man'sface had gone even whiter.
"I'll trade yo' beans," offered the Texan.
"Mine's--black!" gasped the other.
"I know," The Kid whispered in reply. "Trade with me!"
"It means that yuh give yore life for mine," was the agonized answer."I can't let yuh do that."
"Believe me or not, but I have a plan," urged the Texan in a low tone."And it might work. Hurry."
The color returned to the sick youth's face as the beans werecautiously exchanged. Then Kid Wolf turned to the soldiers anddisplayed a black bean.
"Guess I'm the unlucky one." He smiled whimsically. He turned to thesick boy for a final handshake. "Good luck," he whispered, "and if myplans fail, adios forever."
"Come!" ordered a Spanish soldier.
Waving his hand in farewell, Kid Wolf stepped out to meet the doom thathad been prepared for him.
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