by Helen Bagg
CHAPTER VII
MISS CHICAGO
Polly stood where Scott left her, gazing after him with a mixture ofhorror and excitement; horror at the thought that one of the terribleraids of which she had so often heard was taking place scarce two hundredyards from where she stood, and excitement because she was there--she,Polly Street, who had so far in her life never met with any adventure morethrilling than a punctured tire or a lost golf match.
Then, suddenly, it dawned upon her that Scott had left her his onlyweapon; had gone empty-handed into the trouble! The thought carried adouble meaning. He had told her that she was safe, but he had left her hisgun. Then there was danger--the Mexicans might come and find her;secondly, he had gone unarmed for her sake. He, the indifferent, theuncaring, the man who didn't mind whether she smiled on him or snubbedhim! Was it only because she was a girl and he a man, or did he, afterall, care a little bit?
She had threatened, boastingly, to make him care, but she realized thatshe was beginning to care a little herself; that she could not stayquietly in the arroyo without knowing what was happening to him; that shemust see and hear no matter what the risk.
She looked about her in some perplexity. She had been told that a westernhorse would stand contentedly if his reins were thrown over his head; butshe doubted the universal truth of this statement.
"They might if there was grass for them to nibble," she decided. "But theynever would in this hole. Come on, ponies, let's see what we can do." Andgathering up the reins she led the horses in the direction Scott had gone.She saw the place where he had scrambled out of the arroyo, and, oh, goodluck, a clump of mesquite growing out of the crumbling wall further down.She fastened the bridle reins to the mesquite and left the horsescontentedly chewing at it.
Very cautiously she crept up the incline and took a peek at the situation.She was just in time to see Scott disappear into the cabin where Adams laywounded. Polly's face fell. That didn't look very heroic--crawling in bythe back door! No wonder he didn't want her to see him. Then she tookanother look. She saw the crowd down by the corral, catching and saddlingunwilling horses. Women were hurrying in and out of cabins, dragginghousehold goods and children with them.
The little crowd before the store she could not see as the building itselfprevented, but she saw Pachuca with several of his men riding up and down,and she also saw several unmounted Mexicans who had been looting thestore, carry the goods out and throw them in the car which stood at theside of the building. Instinctively the girl reconstructed the action ofthe bandits.
"A lot of them came on horseback and the rest in the car. They're going tocarry what they've taken in the car and they're taking the horses for theextra men. Our Mexicans and their women are going with them and arehelping themselves to whatever they want. But where are our men? I didn'tthink they'd sit down and be plundered without putting up some kind of afight."
She saw the crowd which had been looting the store start for the corral.The car stood alone. Without doubt they had stopped it a little way fromthe street and made a dash on horseback. Polly's eyes shone.
She glanced at the sun; it was going down rapidly. It would soon be dusk.She crept cautiously out of the arroyo. If only none of the men onhorseback saw her she might manage it, wild as her plan was. She shookwith fear but she did not falter; a girl does not have an obstinate chinfor nothing. She glanced both ways; Pachuca was still riding up and down,issuing orders which were obeyed noisily but cheerfully. She saw him pointtoward the corral and saw the men who had been loading the car withplunder start toward the corral on a run.
"Going after more horses," thought the girl, stopping and crouching backof one of the cabins. If they should see her--she held her breath. Thenext moment she was running for the car, still sheltered by the cabins. Itwas this moment that Scott chose to walk down the street and draw theattention of the raiders. Polly saw him and her heart warmed.
"I knew he wasn't a coward!" she almost sobbed. "Oh, I'm glad--but heneedn't be such an idiot as that. He'll be shot as sure as I'm here."
Panic stricken, she increased her pace and in a minute had reached theshelter of the car. Then the shots burst upon her ears. She turned whiteand clung to the door of the car. If they had killed him! She saw Scott'sface as he had left her--friendly, ugly, determined--and she knew that ifthey had killed him nothing else would matter--anything might happen andshe would not care. Mechanically, she opened the door of the car andhastily moved some of the plunder from the floor to the seat. The Mexicanshad tossed in canned goods, blankets, rifles, a couple of cash boxes andeven a box of victrola records. Then she crawled into the space she hadmade and seizing one of the blankets, drew it over herself and over a partof the loot, giving the tonneau of the car the appearance of being full ofplunder which was protected from the dust by a blanket.
There was a clatter of hoofs and Polly heard Scott's parting yell. Itbrought a glorious relief to her mind for surely no one who was badly hurtcould be as mad as that! She heard the answering yells of the Mexicans,then she felt and heard the door of the car flung open; someone had jumpedin and was starting the engine. Something struck her--a man had thrown hisbundle into the car that he might take a howling youngster on his saddle.Polly's teeth chattered with fear; she was realizing with every throb ofthe engine the awful risk she was taking.
Suddenly the car moved. Polly cowered in her uncomfortable position. Coldwith terror she clutched the revolver Scott had given her. Suppose at thelast minute some of the other men should decide to get into the car?
"But I won't suppose! There wouldn't have been any time to suppose if I'dgone to war to drive an ambulance. The boys didn't suppose when they wentover the top--they just went! I hope to goodness none of these guns I'msitting on are loaded."
The car bumped along on the rutty road and the noise of the riders diedaway.
"I knew it," the girl said triumphantly. "I knew the horseback peoplewould take to the trail as soon as they could, and the automobile can't,of course. I've scored one point----"
The car stopped. Polly's breathing apparatus stopped simultaneously. Whatwas it? Had he seen her? Or was he about to pull the loot to pieces anddiscover her? She listened with her whole body, but heard nothing from thedriver. Instead, came the detonation of the dynamited tracks. The groundbeneath the car trembled. Then she heard the man laugh as he started thecar again.
"They've blown up something! That sounds like Don Juan's voice, too. If Icould only see!"
The car soon moved at its former speed. On and on it went. Sometimes theroad would be smooth, the driver having found wagon ruts and stayed inthem. Again, it would be full of bumps and jars. It was veryuncomfortable, her position being wretchedly cramped. Once she wasstartled to hear the driver break into song. It sounded like a Spanishlove song and his voice was a lyric tenor and very musical. It wasPachuca! She determined to know what was going on.
Pushing aside a corner of the blanket she saw that it was beginning togrow dusky. Cautiously she raised herself until she could see. Pachuca wasbent over the wheel. Looking back she saw the road empty of riders.
She looked ahead again. They were in the foothills already. Polly drew along breath, then leaning over the back of the seat said desperately:
"Senor Pachuca, would you mind turning round a moment?"
If she had exploded the revolver in his ear, Pachuca could not have givena greater start.
"_Madre di Dios!_" he gasped, as the machine swerved.
"Please, do mind the wheel--that was an awful curve!"
"Where did you come from?" demanded the young man.
"I have been hidden among the stolen goods," replied Polly. "I've heard alot about you lately, senor, but I honestly didn't believe you were athief until I saw with my own eyes."
Pachuca stopped the machine and turning glared at the girl, also at theweapon which she pointed with a very unsteady hand in his direction.
"If you'll put that thing down I'll try to explain to you the differencebetween
stealing and requisitioning property in war times," he said,angrily.
"If you'll turn the car around you can explain all the way back toAthens," said Polly, sharply. "I'm awfully tired and stiff and my hand isshaky--the man who gave me this gun told me it was ready to go off. Idon't want it to go off but if it does I can't help it. Will you pleaseturn around?"
"No, I won't. The road is too narrow."
"I've turned a Red Cross ambulance around in a lane no wider than this outnear Fort Sheridan and I didn't spill anybody either. You're a betterdriver than I am."
Pachuca shrugged his shoulders but he turned the car. There was an uglylook in his eyes and Polly clutched her weapon tightly. She tried to keepher voice steady but it quavered desperately.
"If you try to do anything mean--upset the car or anything like that, I'mgoing to fire--I certainly will--as sure as I'm red-headed."
The car sped on. Suddenly Pachuca's shoulders began to shake. He turned alaughing face toward Polly.
"You are so pretty and so disagreeable," he said. "Are all Chicago ladieslike you?"
"No. Some of them are not so pretty and are more agreeable," replied thegirl, nervously. "Please--you just missed that chuck-hole!"
"Why should I care? I do not want to go to Athens."
"No, but you don't want to go to Heaven, either, do you? Or--well, youknow what I mean. I don't know how much of a jar it would take to makethis thing go off. A chuck-hole might do it."
Pachuca, evidently depressed, relapsed into silence. It was growing colderand darker--would they never get there? However, she would not have beenPolly had she kept still.
"Senor Pachuca, what did you mean by requisitioning goods? You aren'tworking for the government, are you?"
"No."
"Has another revolution broken out?"
"My dear young lady, Sonora has seceded and other states will follow.Mexico is about to throw off Carranza and his government. Is that clear?"
"Pretty clear--only I don't understand why you should take our things."
"I am raising a regiment. When it is complete I shall lead it into thefield to fight for Mexico."
"I see. That's why you wanted our men?"
"A regiment means men, senorita."
"And our blankets and money and guns and victrola records?"
"Why not? You Americans make your profit from us, why should you not sharein our obligations? Did your generals spare the South when you had yourCivil War? War is not a pretty thing, senorita."
"They were at war with the South and they took----"
"Exactly. They took. An American has but one code of morals, and that isto take. I do not quarrel with it, I like it. I also take."
Polly did not reply. She was tired and cold and she wanted to get home.Her hand was cramped and shaky--her threat had not been an idle one. Sherealized also that Pachuca for all his docility was only waiting theopportunity to turn the tables on her. He was a young man most fertile inexpedients and it behooved her to be extremely vigilant. He would be quitecapable of shooting up the wrong road and carrying her miles in a strangedirection.
The thought made her feel panicky. She tried to remember the turns in theroad, only to realize that she had not seen the road--she had been in thebottom of the car, her head covered with a blanket when she had traveledit so short a time ago. Everything looked ghostly and unreal to her in thehalf light, while Pachuca, she firmly believed, could see in the dark withthose handsome eyes of his quite as well as any family cat out for a run.
"Go faster, please," she said, sharply, for wherever they were going itmight be as well to get there before dark. "It's getting late and I'mcold."
Obediently Pachuca swung into the next speed and the car bumped cheerfullyalong, the big lights casting a bewildering glare before them.
"If I only knew where we were and what he has up his sleeve!" the girlgroaned inwardly. "I know he has something because he isn't making anyfuss. This road is rougher than it was when we came, too; he has taken awrong turn--I know he has!"
Pachuca, apparently resigned to his fate, began to hum melodiously.
"Senor!" Polly's voice was sharp with apprehension and weariness.
"Senorita?"
"We are on the wrong road; I am sure of it. Go back to the place where youleft it."
"With perfect willingness, dear lady, but where shall I go? The road leadsto Athens. Is that not where we want to go--I mean where you want to go?"
"No--I don't know--I think you're tricking me. This isn't the way we came.It doesn't look to me like a road at all--I think you're going over theopen country. I----" The girl paused. It was disheartening--to go throughso much and then to fail at last. She peered ahead into the dim light,trying to see what lay beyond the bright lights of the car. It did looklike open country. Ahead lay a hill--a tall hill. Would Pachuca try tomake it or would he climb around the side of it? Something--it looked likea man on horseback--was coming rapidly down the hill. Had shemiscalculated and were some of Pachuca's men still on the road? Perhapsthe same thought struck the Mexican, for he slowed the car down and peeredeagerly ahead. Polly clutched the revolver feverishly.
"If it's one of your men and you stop--I shall fire!" she said, quickly.
Both stared into the dusk in silence. The rider came almost into the glareof the lamps.
"Stop!" cried the girl, loudly. "It's Mr. Scott!"
The car stopped, the horse was drawn to his haunches, and Scott stared atthe couple over his gun.
"Game's up, Pachuca," he said, shortly. "You're my prisoner."
"Oh!" cried Polly, jumping out of the car and running to Scott. "I knew hehadn't killed you--but I wouldn't ask him for fear he'd say he had! Iknew----" She clutched his stirrup desperately.
Scott stared. "Well. I'm----!" he said, and reaching down he caught theswaying girl by the arm.
"I'm not going to faint--I never do," she cried, clinging to his arm."Don't let him get away."
"Keep him covered. He's not going to get away." Scott swung himself out ofthe saddle, wound the bridle reins around the pommel and gave the horse aclap which started him toward home. "Well, old man, I'll take the gun, Ireckon. Thanks. What's up? Getting up a revolution?"
"He doesn't have to; it's already got up," said Polly, as she climbed intoher place again. "I hid in the car and made him come back," she added."But I was afraid we were off the road."
"You were," said Scott, briefly. "I saw your lights from the hilltop andcame over this way. He was putting one over on you all right." He tossedinto the back of the car some of the stuff which was in his way and tookthe seat beside Pachuca who preserved a sullen silence. "Well, I guesswe've had enough of this. Home, James!"
There was not much conversation. Pachuca was in a bad humor and confinedhis attention to the wheel, a precaution which the increasing darknessrendered highly prudent; Scott was intent upon watching the young Mexican,determined to have no tricks played upon him; while Polly, exhausted bythe excitement of the past hour, crouched quietly in the crowded tonneau.A long way in the rear the patient pony trotted on his homeward way,wondering, no doubt, why things that moved on wheels could go so muchfaster than those traveling on plain, old-fashioned legs.
Out of the dark came a figure on horseback--as unexpectedly as Scotthimself had done a few moments ago. Scott tightened his grasp on hisrevolver.
"If he's a friend of yours, senor, I'm afraid you'll have to go by withoutrecognizing him," he said.
"He is not," replied Pachuca. "My friends are better horsemen than that."
"It's Tom," laughed Scott, suddenly. "He's come after me. Slow down,senor, if you please."
Johnson, riding rapidly, swerved suddenly to one side as the big machinewithout lights came toward him.
"What the----" he began.
"Yes, it's us," said Scott, drily. "We've made a haul and we're bringingit in. Suppose you wait for that horse of mine, will you, Tom, and seethat he gets home all right? Thanks to this gentleman and his friendswe've only g
ot three head of cattle left, so we'd best be careful ofthem."
"You bet," responded Johnson, heartily. "How'd you do it, old man?" heasked.
"I didn't, the lady in the case did it," responded Scott. "She'll tell youabout it later. Whoop her up, will you, senor? It's getting chilly aroundhere."
