CHAPTER VIII. BILLY'S FIRST COMMAND
AND so it was that having breakfasted in the morning Bridge and Miguelstarted downward toward the valley protected by an escort under CaptainBilly Byrne. An old service jacket and a wide-brimmed hat, both donatedby brother officers, constituted Captain Byrne's uniform. His mount wasthe largest that the picket line of Pesita's forces could produce. Billyloomed large amongst his men.
For an hour they rode along the trail, Billy and Bridge conversing uponvarious subjects, none of which touched upon the one uppermost in themind of each. Miguel rode, silent and preoccupied. The evening before hehad whispered something to Bridge as he had crawled out of the darknessto lie close to the American, and during a brief moment that morningBridge had found an opportunity to relay the Mexican's message to BillyByrne.
The latter had but raised his eyebrows a trifle at the time, but laterhe smiled more than was usual with him. Something seemed to please himimmensely.
Beside him at the head of the column rode Bridge and Miguel. Behind themtrailed the six swarthy little troopers--the picked men upon whom Pesitacould depend.
They had reached a point where the trail passes through a narrow dryarroyo which the waters of the rainy season had cut deep into thesoft, powdery soil. Upon either bank grew cacti and mesquite, forming asheltering screen behind which a regiment might have hidden. The placewas ideal for an ambuscade.
"Here, Senor Capitan," whispered Miguel, as they neared the entrance tothe trap.
A low hill shut off from their view all but the head of the cut, and italso hid them from the sight of any possible enemy which might have beenlurking in wait for them farther down the arroyo.
At Miguel's words Byrne wheeled his horse to the right away from thetrail which led through the bottom of the waterway and around the baseof the hill, or rather in that direction, for he had scarce deviatedfrom the direct way before one of the troopers spurred to his side,calling out in Spanish that he was upon the wrong trail.
"Wot's this guy chewin' about?" asked Billy, turning to Miguel.
"He says you must keep to the arroyo, Senor Capitan," explained theMexican.
"Tell him to go back into his stall," was Byrne's laconic rejoinder, ashe pushed his mount forward to pass the brigand.
The soldier was voluble in his objections. Again he reined in front ofBilly, and by this time his five fellows had spurred forward to blockthe way.
"This is the wrong trail," they cried. "Come this other way, Capitan.Pesita has so ordered it."
Catching the drift of their remarks, Billy waved them to one side.
"I'm bossin' this picnic," he announced. "Get out o' the way, an' bequick about it if you don't want to be hurted."
Again he rode forward. Again the troopers interposed their mounts, andthis time their leader cocked his carbine. His attitude was menacing.Billy was close to him. Their ponies were shoulder to shoulder, that ofthe bandit almost broadside of the trail.
Now Billy Byrne was more than passing well acquainted with many of thefundamental principles of sudden brawls. It is safe to say that he hadnever heard of Van Bibber; but he knew, as well as Van Bibber knew, thatit is well to hit first.
Without a word and without warning he struck, leaning forward withall the weight of his body behind his blow, and catching the man fullbeneath the chin he lifted him as neatly from his saddle as though abattering ram had struck him.
Simultaneously Bridge and Miguel drew revolvers from their shirts and asBilly wheeled his pony toward the remaining five they opened fire uponthem.
The battle was short and sweet. One almost escaped but Miguel, whoproved to be an excellent revolver shot, brought him down at a hundredyards. He then, with utter disregard for the rules of civilized warfare,dispatched those who were not already dead.
"We must let none return to carry false tales to Pesita," he explained.
Even Billy Byrne winced at the ruthlessness of the cold-blooded murders;but he realized the necessity which confronted them though he could nothave brought himself to do the things which the Mexican did with suchsang-froid and even evident enjoyment.
"Now for the others!" cried Miguel, when he had assured himself thateach of the six were really quite dead.
Spurring after him Billy and Bridge ran their horses over the roughground at the base of the little hill, and then parallel to the arroyofor a matter of a hundred yards, where they espied two Indians, carbinesin hand, standing in evident consternation because of the unexpectedfusillade of shots which they had just heard and which they were unableto account for.
At the sight of the three the sharpshooters dropped behind cover andfired. Billy's horse stumbled at the first report, caught himself,reared high upon his hind legs and then toppled over, dead.
His rider, throwing himself to one side, scrambled to his feet and firedtwice at the partially concealed men. Miguel and Bridge rode in rapidlyto close quarters, firing as they came. One of the two men Pesitahad sent to assassinate his "guests" dropped his gun, clutched at hisbreast, screamed, and sank back behind a clump of mesquite. The otherturned and leaped over the edge of the bank into the arroyo, rolling andtumbling to the bottom in a cloud of dry dust.
As he rose to his feet and started on a run up the bed of the drystream, dodging a zigzag course from one bit of scant cover to anotherBilly Byrne stepped to the edge of the washout and threw his carbine tohis shoulder. His face was flushed, his eyes sparkled, a smile lightedhis regular features.
"This is the life!" he cried, and pulled the trigger.
The man beneath him, running for his life like a frightened jackrabbit,sprawled forward upon his face, made a single effort to rise and thenslumped limply down, forever.
Miguel and Bridge, dismounted now, came to Byrne's side. The Mexican wasgrinning broadly.
"The captain is one grand fighter," he said. "How my dear general wouldadmire such a man as the captain. Doubtless he would make him a colonel.Come with me Senor Capitan and your fortune is made."
"Come where?" asked Billy Byrne.
"To the camp of the liberator of poor, bleeding Mexico--to GeneralFrancisco Villa."
"Nothin' doin'," said Billy. "I'm hooked up with this Pesita person now,an' I guess I'll stick. He's given me more of a run for my money in thelast twenty-four hours than I've had since I parted from my dear oldfriend, the Lord of Yoka."
"But Senor Capitan," cried Miguel, "you do not mean to say that you aregoing back to Pesita! He will shoot you down with his own hand when hehas learned what has happened here."
"I guess not," said Billy.
"You'd better go with Miguel, Billy," urged Bridge. "Pesita will notforgive you this. You've cost him eight men today and he hasn't anymore men than he needs at best. Besides you've made a monkey of him andunless I miss my guess you'll have to pay for it."
"No," said Billy, "I kind o' like this Pesita gent. I think I'll stickaround with him for a while yet. Anyhow until I've had a chance to seehis face after I've made my report to him. You guys run along now andmake your get-away good, an' I'll beat it back to camp."
He crossed to where the two horses of the slain marksmen were hidden,turned one of them loose and mounted the other.
"So long, boes!" he cried, and with a wave of his hand wheeled about andspurred back along the trail over which they had just come.
Miguel and Bridge watched him for a moment, then they, too, mounted andturned away in the opposite direction. Bridge recited no verse for thebalance of that day. His heart lay heavy in his bosom, for he missedBilly Byrne, and was fearful of the fate which awaited him at the campof the bandit.
Billy, blithe as a lark, rode gaily back along the trail to camp. Helooked forward with unmixed delight to his coming interview with Pesita,and to the wild, half-savage life which association with the banditpromised. All his life had Billy Byrne fed upon excitement andadventure. As gangster, thug, holdup man and second-story artist Billyhad found food for his appetite within the dismal, sooty streets ofChicago's gre
at West Side, and then Fate had flung him upon the savageshore of Yoka to find other forms of adventure where the best that isin a strong man may be brought out in the stern battle for existenceagainst primeval men and conditions. The West Side had developed onlyBilly's basest characteristics. He might have slipped back easily intothe old ways had it not been for HER and the recollection of that whichhe had read in her eyes. Love had been there; but greater than that tohold a man into the straight and narrow path of decency and honor hadbeen respect and admiration. It had seemed incredible to Billy that agoddess should feel such things for him--for the same man her scornfullips once had branded as coward and mucker; yet he had read the trutharight, and since then Billy Byrne had done his best according to thelight that had been given him to deserve the belief she had in him.
So far there had crept into his consciousness no disquieting doubtsas to the consistency of his recent action in joining the force ofa depredating Mexican outlaw. Billy knew nothing of the politicalconditions of the republic. Had Pesita told him that he was president ofMexico, Billy could not have disputed the statement from any knowledgeof facts which he possessed. As a matter of fact about all Billy hadever known of Mexico was that it had some connection with an importantplace called Juarez where running meets were held.
To Billy Byrne, then, Pesita was a real general, and Billy, himself,a bona fide captain. He had entered an army which was at war with someother army. What they were warring about Billy knew not, nor did hecare. There should be fighting and he loved that--that much he knew.The ethics of Pesita's warfare troubled him not. He had heard that somegreat American general had said: "War is hell." Billy was willing totake his word for it, and accept anything which came in the guise of waras entirely proper and as it should be.
The afternoon was far gone when Billy drew rein in the camp of theoutlaw band. Pesita with the bulk of his raiders was out upon someexcursion to the north. Only half a dozen men lolled about, smoking orsleeping away the hot day. They looked at Billy in evident surprisewhen they saw him riding in alone; but they asked no questions and Billyoffered no explanation--his report was for the ears of Pesita only.
The balance of the day Billy spent in acquiring further knowledge ofSpanish by conversing with those of the men who remained awake, andasking innumerable questions. It was almost sundown when Pesita rodein. Two riderless horses were led by troopers in the rear of thelittle column and three men swayed painfully in their saddles and theirclothing was stained with blood.
Evidently Pesita had met with resistance. There was much volublechattering on the part of those who had remained behind in theirendeavors to extract from their returning comrades the details of theday's enterprise. By piecing together the various scraps of conversationhe could understand Billy discovered that Pesita had ridden far todemand tribute from a wealthy ranchero, only to find that word ofhis coming had preceded him and brought a large detachment of Villa'sregulars who concealed themselves about the house and outbuildings untilPesita and his entire force were well within close range.
"We were lucky to get off as well as we did," said an officer.
Billy grinned inwardly as he thought of the pleasant frame of mind inwhich Pesita might now be expected to receive the news that eight of histroopers had been killed and his two "guests" safely removed from thesphere of his hospitality.
And even as his mind dwelt delightedly upon the subject a ragged Indiancarrying a carbine and with heavy silver spurs strapped to his bare feetapproached and saluted him.
"General Pesita wishes Senor Capitan Byrne to report to him at once,"said the man.
"Sure Mike!" replied Billy, and made his way through the pandemonium ofthe camp toward the headquarters tent.
As he went he slipped his hand inside his shirt and loosened somethingwhich hung beneath his left arm.
"Li'l ol' ace-in-the-hole," he murmured affectionately.
He found Pesita pacing back and forth before his tent--an energeticbundle of nerves which no amount of hard riding and fighting could tireor discourage.
As Billy approached Pesita shot a quick glance at his face, that hemight read, perhaps, in his new officer's expression whether anger orsuspicion had been aroused by the killing of his American friend, forPesita never dreamed but that Bridge had been dead since mid-forenoon.
"Well," said Pesita, smiling, "you left Senor Bridge and Miguel safelyat their destination?"
"I couldn't take 'em all the way," replied Billy, "cause I didn't haveno more men to guard 'em with; but I seen 'em past the danger I guessan' well on their way."
"You had no men?" questioned Pesita. "You had six troopers."
"Oh, they was all croaked before we'd been gone two hours. You see ithappens like this: We got as far as that dry arroyo just before thetrail drops down into the valley, when up jumps a bunch of this hereVilla's guys and commenced takin' pot shots at us.
"Seein' as how I was sent to guard Bridge an' Mig, I makes them dismountand hunt cover, and then me an' my men wades in and cleans up the bunch.They was only a few of them but they croaked the whole bloomin' six o'mine.
"I tell you it was some scrap while it lasted; but I saved your guestsfrom gettin' hurted an' I know that that's what you sent me to do. It'stoo bad about the six men we lost but, leave it to me, we'll get evenwith that Villa guy yet. Just lead me to 'im."
As he spoke Billy commenced scratching himself beneath the left arm, andthen, as though to better reach the point of irritation, he slipped hishand inside his shirt. If Pesita noticed the apparently innocent littleact, or interpreted it correctly may or may not have been the fact. Hestood looking straight into Byrne's eyes for a full minute. His facedenoted neither baffled rage nor contemplated revenge. Presently a slowsmile raised his heavy mustache and revealed his strong, white teeth.
"You have done well, Captain Byrne," he said. "You are a man after myown heart," and he extended his hand.
A half-hour later Billy walked slowly back to his own blankets, and tosay that he was puzzled would scarce have described his mental state.
"I can't quite make that gink out," he mused. "Either he's a mighty goodloser or else he's a deep one who'll wait a year to get me the way hewants to get me."
And Pesita a few moments later was saying to Captain Rozales:
"I should have shot him if I could spare such a man; but it is seldom Ifind one with the courage and effrontery he possesses. Why think of it,Rozales, he kills eight of my men, and lets my prisoners escape, andthen dares to come back and tell me about it when he might easily havegotten away. Villa would have made him an officer for this thing, andMiguel must have told him so. He found out in some way about your littleplan and he turned the tables on us. We can use him, Rozales, but wemust watch him. Also, my dear captain, watch his right hand and when heslips it into his shirt be careful that you do not draw on him--unlessyou happen to be behind him."
Rozales was not inclined to take his chief's view of Byrne's value tothem. He argued that the man was guilty of disloyalty and therefore amenace. What he thought, but did not advance as an argument, was ofa different nature. Rozales was filled with rage to think that thenewcomer had outwitted him, and beaten him at his own game, and he wasjealous, too, of the man's ascendancy in the esteem of Pesita; but hehid his personal feelings beneath a cloak of seeming acquiescence in hischief's views, knowing that some day his time would come when he mightrid himself of the danger of this obnoxious rival.
"And tomorrow," continued Pesita, "I am sending him to Cuivaca. Villahas considerable funds in bank there, and this stranger can learn what Iwant to know about the size of the detachment holding the town, and thehabits of the garrison."
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