Brandon of the Engineers Part 28

Bethune smiled. "You ought to know. I'm a bit of a philosopher, but when you stir my racial feelings I'm an American first. The mean white's a troublesome proposition at home, but we can't afford to exhibit him to the dagos here." He turned to d.i.c.k. "That's our att.i.tude, Brandon, and though you were not long in our country, you seem to sympathize with it.

I don't claim it's quite logical, but there it is! We're white and _different_."

"Do you want me to hire the man?" Stuyvesant asked with an impatient gesture.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k.

"Then put him on. If he steals anything, I'll hold you responsible and ship him out on the next cement boat, whether he wants to go or not."

Next morning d.i.c.k sent word to Payne, who arrived at the dam soon afterwards and did his work satisfactorily. On the evening of the first pay-day he went to Santa Brigida, but d.i.c.k, who watched him in the morning, noted somewhat to his surprise, that he showed no signs of dissipation. When work stopped at noon he heard a few pistol shots, but was told on inquiring that it was only one or two of the men shooting at a mark. A few days afterwards he found it necessary to visit Santa Brigida. Since Bethune confined his talents to constructional problems and languidly protested that he had no apt.i.tude for commerce, much of the company's minor business gradually fell into d.i.c.k's hands. As a rule, he went to the town in the evening, after he had finished at the dam. While a hand-car was being got ready to take him down the line, Payne came up to the veranda, where d.i.c.k sat with Jake.

"You're going down town, Mr. Brandon," he said. "Have you got a gun?"

"I have not," said d.i.c.k.

Payne pulled out an automatic pistol. "Then you'd better take mine. I bought her, second-hand, with my first pay, but she's pretty good. I reckon you can shoot?"

"A little," said d.i.c.k, who had practised with the British army revolver.

"Still I don't carry a pistol."

"You ought," Payne answered meaningly, and walking to the other end of the veranda stuck a sc.r.a.p of white paper on a post. "Say, suppose you try her? I want to see you put a pill through that."

d.i.c.k was surprised by the fellow's persistence, but there is a fascination in shooting at a target, and when Jake urged him he took the pistol. Steadying it with stiffened wrist and forearm, he fired but hit the post a foot below the paper.

"You haven't allowed for the pull-off, and you're slow," Payne remarked.

"You want to sight high, with a squeeze on the trigger, and then catch her on the drop."

He took the pistol and fixed his eyes on the paper before he moved. Then his arm went up suddenly and the glistening barrel pointed above the mark. There was a flash as his wrist dropped and a black spot appeared near the middle of the paper.

"Use her like that! You'd want a mighty steady hand to hold her dead on the mark while you pull off."

"Sit down and tell us why you think Mr. Brandon ought to have the pistol," Jake remarked. "I go to Santa Brigida now and then, but you haven't offered to lend it me."

Payne sat down on the steps and looked at him with a smile. "You're all right, Mr. Fuller. They're not after you."

"Then you reckon it wasn't me they wanted the night my partner was stabbed? I had the money."

"Nope," said Payne firmly. "I allow they'd have corralled the dollars if they could, but it was Mr. Brandon they meant to knock out." He paused and added in a significant tone: "They're after him yet."

"Hadn't you better tell us whom you mean by 'they'?" d.i.c.k asked.

"Oliva's gang. There are toughs in the city who'd kill you for fifty cents."

"Does that account for your buying the pistol when you came here?"

"It does," Payne admitted dryly. "I didn't mean to take any chances when it looked as if I was going back on my dago partner."

"He turned you down first, and I don't see how you could harm him by working for us."

Payne did not answer, and d.i.c.k, who thought he was pondering something, resumed: "These half-breeds are a revengeful lot, but after all, Oliva wouldn't run a serious risk without a stronger motive than he seems to have."

"Well," said Payne, "if I talked Spanish, I could tell you more; but I was taking my siesta one day in a dark wine-shop when two or three hard-looking peons came in. They mayn't have seen me, because there were some casks in the way, and anyhow, they'd reckon I couldn't understand them. I didn't very well, but I heard your name and caught a word or two.

Their _patron_ had given them some orders and one called him Don Ramon.

You were to be watched, because _mirar_ came in; but I didn't get the rest and they went out soon. I lay as if I was asleep, but I'd know the crowd again." Payne got up as he concluded: "Anyway, you take my gun, and keep in the main _calles_, where the lights are."

When he had gone Jake remarked: "I guess his advice is good and I'm coming along."

"No," said d.i.c.k, smiling as he put the pistol in his pocket. "The trouble is that if I took you down there I mightn't get you back. Besides, there are some calculations I want you to make."

Lighting his pipe, he took his seat on the hand-car and knitted his brows as two colored laborers drove him down the hill. Below, the lights of Santa Brigida gleamed in a cl.u.s.ter against the dusky sea, and he knew something of the intrigues that went on in the town. Commercial and political jealousies were very keen, and citizens of all ranks fought and schemed against their neighbors. The place was rank with plots, but it was hard to see how he could be involved. Yet it certainly began to look as if he had been stabbed by Oliva's order, and Oliva was now employed at the Adexe coaling wharf.

This seemed to throw a light upon the matter. Something mysterious was going on at Adexe, and perhaps he had been incautious and had shown his suspicions; the Spaniards were subtle. The manager might have imagined he knew more than he did; but if it was worth defending by the means Payne had hinted at, the secret must be very important, and the plotters would hesitate about betraying themselves by another attempt upon his life so long as there was any possibility of failure. Besides, it was dangerous to attack a foreigner, since if he were killed, the representative of his country would demand an exhaustive inquiry.

While d.i.c.k pondered the matter the hand-car stopped and he alighted and walked briskly to Santa Brigida, keeping in the middle of the road. When he reached the town, he chose the wide, well-lighted streets but saw nothing suspicious. After transacting his business he ventured, by way of experiment, across a small dark square and returned to the main street by a narrow lane, but although he kept a keen watch nothing indicated that he was followed. Reaching the hand-car without being molested, he determined to be cautious in future, though it was possible that Payne had been deceived.

CHAPTER XIX

JAKE EXPLAINS MATTERS

The sun had sunk behind the range when Clare Kenwardine stood, musing, on a balcony of the house. Voices and footsteps reached her across the roofs, for Santa Brigida was wakening from its afternoon sleep and the traffic had begun again in the cooling streets. The girl listened vacantly, as she grappled with questions that had grown more troublesome of late.

The life she led often jarred, and yet she could find no escape. She hoped she was not unnecessarily censorious and tried to argue that after all there was no great harm in gambling, but rarely succeeded in convincing herself. Then she had deliberately thrown in her lot with her father's. When she first insisted on joining him in England, he had, for her sake, as she now realized, discouraged the plan, but had since come to depend upon her in many ways, and she could not leave him. Besides, it was too late. She had made her choice and must stick to it.

Yet she rebelled against the feeling that she had brought a taint or stigma upon herself. She had no women friends except the wives of one or two Spanish officials whose reputation for honesty was not of the best; the English and American women left her alone. Most of the men she met she frankly disliked, and imagined that the formal respect they showed her was due to her father's hints. Kenwardine's moral code was not severe, but he saw that his guests preserved their manners. Clare had heard the Spaniards call him _muy caballero_, and they knew the outward points of a gentleman. While she pondered, he came out on the balcony.

"Brooding?" he said with a smile. "Well, it has been very dull lately and we need cheering up. Suppose you send Mr. Fuller a note and ask him to dinner to-morrow? He's sometimes amusing and I think you like him."

Clare braced herself for a struggle, for it was seldom she refused her father's request.

"Yes," she said, "I like him, but it would be better if he didn't come."

Kenwardine gave her a keen glance, but although he felt some surprise did not try to hide his understanding of what she meant.

"It looks as if you knew something about what happened on his last visit."

"I do," Clare answered. "It was rather a shock."

"One mustn't exaggerate the importance of these things," Kenwardine remarked in an indulgent tone. "It's difficult to avoid getting a jar now and then, though I've tried to shield you as much as possible. Fuller's young and high-spirited, and you really mustn't judge his youthful extravagance too severely."

"But don't you see you are admitting that he shouldn't come?" Clare asked, with some color in her face. "He _is_ young and inexperienced, and your friends are men of the world. What is safe for them may be dangerous for him."

Kenwardine pondered. Fuller was an attractive lad, and he would not have been displeased to think that Clare's wish to protect him might spring from sentimental tenderness. But if this were so, she would hardly have been so frank and have admitted that he was weak. Moreover, if she found his society congenial, she would not insist on keeping him away.

"You are afraid some of the others might take advantage of his rashness?"

he suggested. "Can't you trust me to see this doesn't happen?"