by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER III
ADIOS, SAN JUAN
Suarez was not dead. He was not even dangerously wounded. A two-ouncebullet had dealt an upper left rib a blow like the kick of a horse, butat such an angle that the bone deflected its flight. Consequently, afractured sternal costa, loss of blood, and a most painful flesh woundformed for Suarez the collective outcome of Maseden's disturbed aiming.
In effect, the president regained consciousness about the time CaptainGomez had succeeded in persuading several members of the new governmentthat it was not he, but an escaped prisoner, who had so grievouslymaltreated the head of the Republic.
A doctor announced that Senor Suarez must be given complete rest andfreedom from public affairs during the ensuing week or ten days. Eventhe wrathful president himself, after making known the true identity ofhis assailant, felt that he had no option other than placing the affairsof the nation temporarily in the hands of his associates.
He made the best of an awkward situation, therefore, and issued avainglorious decree announcing the change.
Now, even San Juan could not provide a second revolution withintwelve hours. States, like human beings, can experience a surfeitof excitement; moreover, the next gang of office-seekers had not yetemerged from the welter of parties. Sometimes, too, in South America,a disabled president is preferable to an active one, because theheads of departments can do a little pilfering on their own account.
So San Juan became virtuously indignant over the "attemptedassassination" of that renowned "liberator," Enrico Suarez. A hue andcry was raised for the scoundrelly American, several supporters of reallaw and order in the State were arrested, and cavalry and police rodeforth on Maseden's trail.
This planning and scheming and explaining consumed valuable time,however. It was high noon when a party of horsemen, headed by awell-informed guide, in the person of the ranch superintendent, "old"Lopez, tore along the avenue of mahogany trees at Los Andes.
Lopez, a wizened, shrewd, and sufficiently trustworthy half-breed, wasnot betraying his employer. He was merely carrying out explicitinstructions. Maseden had no desire to place his faithful servants inthe power of the Cartagena harpies. He was literally fighting for hislife now. He meant to meet violence with greater violence, guile withdeeper guile.
When a Covenanter buckles on the sword, let professional swashbucklerstake heed; when an honest man plots, let rogues beware. A clear-headedAmerican, armed against oppression, can be at once a most lusty warriorand the astutest of strategists.
"It is the unexpected that happens," said Disraeli in one of hishappiest epigrams. A few strenuous hours spent in the Republic of SanJuan in Maseden's plight would have yielded the cynic material for adozen like quips, if he had survived the experience.
When Maseden reached the _estancia_ he was received by Lopez with evengreater amazement than was displayed by the peon. Being a privilegedperson, the old fellow expressed himself in absolutely untranslatablelanguage. After a lurid preamble, he went on:
"But, thanks to the heavenly ones, I see you again, senor, safe andsound, though in a strange livery. Is it true, then, that the presidentis dead?"
"Yes. Both of them, I believe."
Maseden laughed wearily. He was tired, and the day was only beginning.He knew, of course, that Lopez meant Valdez, having probably, as yet,not so much as heard of Suarez as chief of the Republic.
"I'll explain matters," he said. "Stand by to catch me if I fall when Idismount. The devil take all dudes and their vanities! These boots havenearly killed me."
In a minute the offending jack boots were off and flung into theveranda, the helmet after them. The horse was given over to the care ofa peon, and Maseden went to his bedroom.
A glance at a big safe showed that the letter lock had defied curiosity,and no serious attempt had been made to force it. He saw that thedrawers in a bureau in the adjoining room had been ransacked hastily.Probably, the new president's emissaries were instructed to look for alist of "conspirators"--of well-affected citizens, that is--who meant tosupport the honorable _regime_ of Valdez.
"Now, listen while I talk," said Maseden, tearing open the tight-fittingblue coat. "I can put faith in you, I suppose?"
"Senor--"
"Yes, I take it for granted. Besides, if you stick to me you may comeout on top yourself. Valdez is dead. He was murdered last night, andEnrico Suarez stepped into his shoes.... Oh, I know Enrico's real name,but I haven't a second to spare. I was sentenced to death early thismorning, and married about an hour ago, just before being taken out tobe shot.... Well, I got away; how--is of no concern to you. In fact, itis better that you shouldn't know.
"A lady will come into possession here. She will call herself the SenoraMaseden. Senor Porilla will introduce her. She and the lawyer areplaying some game to suit Suarez and Steinbaum, the German consul atCartagena. My escape may bother them a bit, but I cannot guess just howthings will work out. What orders did Enrico's lieutenant give you?"
The foreman's wits were rather mixed by his master's extraordinarybudget of news, but he answered readily.
"He told me, senor, if I valued my life, to see that nothing wasdisturbed in the _estancia_ till the president came or sent arepresentative."
"I thought so. That gives me a sporting chance."
Maseden had changed rapidly into his own clothes, an ordinary ridingcostume suitable to a tropical climate. He opened the safe, stuffed somepapers into his pockets, also a quantity of gold, silver, and notes.
Then he wrote a letter, and filled in a check. Having addressed andstamped the envelope, he handed it to his assistant.
"In five minutes or less, you will be riding at a steady gallop towardsCartagena," he said. "If possible, deliver that letter yourself to SenorPeguero, the American consul. By 'possible' I mean if you are not heldup by soldiers or police on the way. Otherwise, keep it concealed, andpost it when the opportunity serves."
Lopez knew the pleasant methods of his fellow-republicans.
"They may search me, senor," he said.
"Not if you do as I tell you. Curse me fluently enough, and they'll lookon you as their best friend."
"Senor!" protested the old man.
"Yes. I mean it. Call me all the names you can lay tongue to. When Ileave this room I'll follow you, revolver in hand. Be careful to scowland act unwillingly. I want some food and a couple of bottles of wine,also a leather bottle full of water and a tin cup. Saddle the Cid, andsee that three or four good measures of corn are put in the saddle-bagswith the other things.
"When I vanish rush to the stables, pick out a good mustang, and be inCartagena within the hour. If not interfered with, take the letter toSenor Peguero. Don't wait for an answer, but hurry at top speed to theCastle, where you must tell some one that I came back to the ranch andordered you about at the muzzle of a revolver.
"Lead the soldiers straight here. If Captain Gomez is in command, assurehim that you rescued his uniform, and he'll be your friend forever.Should you meet them on the way, turn back with them. You understand?You're for the president and against me."
Lopez smiled till his face was a mass of wrinkles. He was beginning tosee through the scheme, and was Spaniard enough to appreciate the leavenof intrigue.
"But when and where shall I find you, senor, if you are taking a longjourney?" he said, still grinning.
"Not a mile away, if all goes well. Soon after dusk come to the Grove ofthe Doves at sunset. I'll turn up. If you are delayed, and it is dark,hoot like an owl, and I'll answer. If you don't come at all I'll knowit's too dangerous, and will be there again at dawn, at noon, and atsunset to-morrow. Pick up some news in Cartagena. You will be told, ofcourse, that I have shot Suarez. Be careful to show your horrifiedsurprise, and ask if the dear man is really dead. If he is, try and findout who is in power. Of course there's a bare chance that Porilla may bemade president, in which case I might be given a fair trial when anAmerican man-of-war is anchored in the roads.... Oh, by the way, youmight find out who the la
dy is I married this morning."
"Senor!" gasped Lopez, in sheer bewilderment.
"I haven't the remotest notion who she is, or even what she looks like,"laughed Maseden. "Now, there's no more time for talk," and he raised hisvoice. "Obey me at once, you lazy old hound, or I'll blow your brainsout! Send a peon for the Cid. Fail me in one single thing, and I'll puta bullet through your head!... Margarita! Some bread and meat, quick!I'll soon show you who is master in this house. Suarez may give ordersin Cartagena, but I give them here!"
Lopez hurried out, wringing his hands. Maseden followed, brandishing therevolver. Some timid servants, who had gathered in the _patio_ at thenews of their employer's return, made as though they would run, but hestopped them with a fierce threat, and, while munching the food broughtby an aged housekeeper, behaved and spoke so outrageously that theythought he was mad.
Poor creatures! They had served him well in the past. Now he was tryingto save their lives by giving them something to say against him whenquestioned by the president's henchmen.
Meanwhile, he had a sharp ear for the hoof-beats of a galloping horse.Pedro, knowing nothing of the scene in the _estancia_, was still onguard at the bend in the avenue, and might be trusted to give warning ofthe enemy's approach. But Maseden was allowed to eat his fill.
A very terrified Lopez brought a hardy-looking mustang to the gateway,and his master saw a repeating rifle slung to the saddle. That was athoughtful thing. Such a weapon might be exceedingly useful.
"Where are the cartridges?" he thundered.
"Here, most excellent one," stammered the other, producing a bandolier.
The American swung into the saddle, swore at his co-conspiratorheartily, and was off.
* * * * *
So Lopez had a fine tale to tell when his mustang loped up to theentrance of the Castle of San Juan. He had a fine tale to hear, too, ashe rode back to the ranch with a body of horse led by the fastidious andcolor-loving Ferdinando Gomez.
The servants, of course, bore out the superintendent's story ofMaseden's extraordinary behavior. Obviously, no one at the _estancia_was to blame for this daring prisoner's second escape. The officer whohad arrested him at daybreak should have left a guard in charge, but theplain truth was that the Cartagena men had been so anxious to take partin the stirring doings anticipated at the capital that no heed was givento this flaw in the procedure.
That night, however, when Maseden met Lopez at the rendezvous, theSpaniard's account of events was not reassuring.
Suarez was living, and not very badly hurt, it was true; but every man'shand seemed to be against the foreigner who had tried to kill him.Maseden was puzzled, at first, by this excess of patriotism on the partof the citizens of Cartagena and San Juan generally.
"What do they think has become of me?" he inquired.
"They argue, senor, that you have ridden into the interior, andtelegrams have been sent to all the inland towns ordering your instantarrest. If you resist you are to be shot dead, and a reward of onethousand dollars will be paid when you are identified."
"Do they pay for me dead only?"
"They offer two thousand for you alive, senor."
"Just to have the pleasure of potting me as per schedule.... Any fearthat you have been followed to-night, old friend?"
"None, senor. The soldiers at the _estancia_ believe you are many milesaway. Moreover, I have put good wine on the table."
"Who is in charge there? Captain Gomez?"
"No, senor, a stranger. _El capitan_ went back to Cartagena. He nearlywept when he saw his boots. You had split them."
"You gave the consul my letter?"
"I dropped it in his box, senor. I thought that was wiser."
"So it was. I should have remembered that. What of the lady?"
"The lady you married, senor?"
"Of course. You wouldn't have me interested in some other lady on mywedding day, you old reprobate?"
The half-breed laughed softly.
"Even that wouldn't be so strange a thing as what has really happened,senor. No one knows who the lady is. One man, a distant cousin of mine,told me he heard she landed from a ship only late last night."
"Great Scott!" muttered Maseden in English, "what a Sphinx-like person!She must be descended from the Man in the Iron Mask." Then he went on:
"Didn't your cousin know where she was staying in Cartagena? Surelythere must have been a good deal of public curiosity about her. Twentypeople were present at the marriage. It was no secret."
"I understand that she had gone to Senor Steinbaum's house. She faintedafter the ceremony, my cousin said, and had to be carried into anautomobile, but he knew nothing more."
The veiled Madeleine had felt the strain, then! Somehow the knowledge ofher collapse touched a chord of sentiment in Maseden's heart, but hisown desperate plight effectually banished all other considerations atthe moment.
True, he was safe for the night, and for many days to come, if theforeman's fidelity remained unshaken. The ranch was called Los Andesbecause it contained a chain of little hills all covered with valuabletimber, among which he could hide without real difficulty.
But of what avail this precarious lurking on his own estate? He musttake speedy and effectual steps to get clear of San Juan altogetheruntil such time as he could secure adequate protection, and have hiscase thrashed out by a tribunal to whose decision even Enrico Suarez,the president of the Republic, must bow.
One thing was quite certain--never again could he settle down inunmolested possession of his property. Though the shooting of Suarez wasan unfortunate necessity, its effect would be enduring and disastrous.
He had thought out every phase of the problem during the long, hot hoursbeneath the trees, and the half-breed's account of the trend of publicfeeling decided his adoption of the boldest course of all. He would goto Cartagena, where he was hardly known, save to a few merchants andshopkeepers, a banker and one or two members of the Consular community,and board some outward-bound vessel.
Fortunately, he had plenty of money, and, glory be, could speak bothSpanish and the San Juan patois like a native. If his luck held, hewould cheat Suarez yet.
"Lopez," he said, after a long pause, "I must leave the ranch for many aday, probably forever. If I stay here I'll only plunge you into troubleand get myself captured. Now, do me one last service. Have you anyclothes belonging to that _vaquero_ nephew of yours who broke his neckin a race last Easter?"
"I have his overalls, a _fiesta_ jacket, some shirts and a sombrero,senor."
"Bring them, and speedily. I'll give you a good price."
"They are yours for nothing, senor."
"I don't deal on those terms, Lopez. Off with you. I'll wait here."
"Anything else, senor?"
"Yes. I was nearly forgetting. Bring his saddle, too. My own saddlemight be recognized. I have a long ride before me, so hurry."
Within half an hour the good-hearted old foreman was richer by fivehundred dollars, while Maseden, a dashing cowboy, though unkempt as toface and hands, was riding across country by starlight.
He did not tell Lopez his real objective. There was no need. The oldfellow occasionally indulged in a burst of dissipation, and if histongue wagged then he might blurt out some boastful phrase which wouldbring down on him the merciless wrath of the authorities.
At dawn the fugitive received another slice of real luck. He had justentered a main road leading from San Luis, a town thirty miles fromCartagena, when he came upon a cowherd sitting by the roadside andbemoaning his misfortunes. The man was commissioned to drive some cattleto a sale-ring in the city, and had scratched an ankle rather badlywhile whacking one of the steers out of a bed of thorns.
Such an incident was common enough in his life, but on this occasioneither the thorn was poisonous or some foreign matter had lodged in thewound, because the limb had swollen greatly and was so painful that hecould hardly walk.
Maseden played the Good Samaritan. He asc
ertained the drover's name, hismaster's, and the address of the salesman; the rest was easy. Helpingthe sufferer into a wayside hovel, he promised to send back a messengerlater with an official receipt, took charge of the animals himself, andreached Cartagena as Ramon Aliones, the accredited representative of aSan Luis rancher.
The sale-ring was near the harbor, and he mounted a man on his ownbroncho to deliver the drover's voucher for the safe arrival of the herdat its destination. He asked for, and obtained, a duplicate, which hekept. This same emissary readily disposed of the horse and saddle at aruinous price when told that the newcomer was not only thirsty, butmeant to see the sights of the capital.
A cheap restaurant, some wineshops, and a vile billiard saloon providedshelter for the rest of the day. Before night fell, Maseden hadascertained three things: He was supposed to be riding hard into theinterior; the lady he had married was really a stranger and wasSteinbaum's guest, and a large steamer, the _Southern Cross_, flying theStars and Stripes, was due to leave port at midnight.
She should have sailed some hours earlier, but the drastic changes inthe marine department entailed by the day's happenings had delayedcertain formalities connected with her manifests.
"For a time, senor," explained the ship's chandler who gave him thislatter information, "no one would sign anything. You see, a name on apaper would prove conclusively which president you favored. Youunderstand?"
Maseden understood perfectly.
"It is well that you and I, senor, have no truck with these presidents,or we might be in trouble," he laughed. "As it is, another bottle, andto the devil with all politicians!"
Under cover of the darkness the American slipped away from his booncompanions, now comfortably drunk at his expense. Having no luggage, hebought a second-hand leather trunk and some cheap underclothing, such asa muleteer might reasonably possess. He also secured the repeating rifleand cartridges which he had left in a restaurant, and, thus reinforced,made for the Plaza, where Cartagenians of both sexes and all ages weregathered to enjoy the cool breeze that comes from the Pacific withsunset.
From that point he knew he could see the _Southern Cross_ lying atanchor in the roadstead. She was there, sure enough, nearly a mile out,and he was puzzling his wits for a pretext to hire a boat and board herwithout attracting notice when chance solved the problem for him.
Two men passed. They were talking English, and he heard one addressingthe other by name.
"Tell you what, Sturgess," the speaker was saying, "I'd be hull down onCartagena to-night if the skipper would only bring up at Valparaiso. Buthis first port of call is Buenos Ayres, and I've got to make Valparaisobefore I see good old New York again, so here I'm fixed till a coastingsteamer comes along. Great Caesar's ghost, I wish I were going with you!"
The second man, Sturgess, was carrying a suitcase, and the two wereevidently making for a short pier which supplied landing places forsmall craft at various stages of the tide.
Maseden quickened his pace, overtook them, and said in Spanish that hewished to book a passage to Buenos Ayres on the _Southern Cross_, and,if the Senor Americano would permit him to board the vessel in his boat,he (Maseden) would gladly carry the bag to the pier.
Sturgess evidently did not understand Spanish, and asked his companionto interpret. He laughed on hearing the queer offer.
"Guess I can handle the grip myself, and the gallant _vaquero_ is prettywell loaded with his own outfit," he said, "but he is welcome to a tripon my catamaran, if it's of any service."
Maseden, however, insisted on giving some return for the favor, andsecured the suitcase. Now, if any sharp-eyed watcher on the pier sawhim, he would pass as the traveler's servant.
Within half an hour he was aboard the ship, and had bargained for aspare berth in the forecastle with the crew. He would be compelled torough it, and remain as dirty and disheveled as possible until the shipreached Buenos Ayres. Obviously, no matter what his personal wrongsmight be, he could not make the captain of the _Southern Cross_ a partyto the escape from Cartagena of the man who had nearly succeeded inridding the republic of its president.
But the prospect of hard fare and worse accommodations did not troublehim at all. He had nearly ten thousand dollars in his pockets. If thenote sent through Lopez to the American Consul was acted on promptly, afurther sum of fifteen thousand dollars lying to his credit in a localbank was now in safe keeping.
Really, considering that he had been so near death that morning, he hada good deal to be thankful for if he never saw Cartagena or the LosAndes ranch again.
As for the marriage, what of it? A knot so easily tied could be untiedwith equal readiness. He hadn't the least doubt but that an Americancourt of law would declare the ceremony illegal.
At any rate, he could jump that fence when he reached it. At present, insporting phrase, he was going strong with a lot in hand.
He kept well out of sight when a government launch came off, and a portofficial boarded the vessel.
He never knew what a narrow escape he had when the chief steward whoacted as purser, was asked if any new addition had been made to thepassenger list. The ship's officer was not a good Spanish scholar. Hethought the question applied to the cargo, and answered "no."
Then, after a wait that seemed interminable, the snorting and growlingof a steam winch and the unwilling rasp of the anchor chain chanted asymphonic chorus in Maseden's ears. Those harsh sounds sang of freedomand life, of golden years on a most excellent earth instead of aneternity in the grave. He came on deck to watch the Castle of San Juandwindle and vanish in the deep, blue glamour of a perfect tropicalnight.
He was standing on the open part of the main deck, close to the forehold, when he heard English voices from the promenade deck high abovehis head.
A man's somewhat querulous accents reached him first.
"Well, at this time two days ago, I little thought I'd be on a steamergoing south to-night," said the speaker.
There was no answer, though it was evident that the petulant philosopherwas not addressing the silent air.
"I suppose you girls are still mooning about that fellow getting awayfrom the Castle?" grumbled the same voice. "I tell you he has noearthly chance of winning clear. Steinbaum will see to that. His recordis none too good, and a question in the American Senate would just aboutfinish him, even in San Juan. So Mr. Philip Alexander Maseden might justas well have been shot yesterday morning as to-day or to-morrow. They'rehot on his track now, Steinbaum told me--
"Eh? Yes, I know he did _me_ a good turn, but, damn it all, that wasmerely because he was going to die, not because he was a first-rate lifefor an insurance office. It was no business of mine that he and Suarezcouldn't agree.... Oh, let's go to our cabins! Tears always put mynerves on a raw edge! Anyone would think you had lost a real husband onyour wedding day!"
There was a movement of shadowy forms. Maseden thought he coulddistinguish a woman's white hand rest for an instant on the ship's rail.Was that the hand he thought he would remember until the Day ofJudgment? He could not say.
The one fact that lifted itself out of the welter of incoherent fancieswhirling in his mind was an almost incontrovertible one. If his ears hadnot deceived him, he and his unknown but lawful wife werefellow-passengers on board the _Southern Cross_!
