Rainbow's End Part 35

The raid was over, "retreat" was sounding, when Judson and O'Reilly ran out of the prison, remounted, and joined their comrades, who were streaming back toward the plaza.

"Whew!" Judson wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "No chance to ask these fellows what they were in for."

"No need to ask them," said Johnnie. "A month in there would be too much for a murderer."

"The druggist said most of 'em are just patriots, and every holiday the Spaniards shoot one or two. There's no c.o.c.k-fighting, so it's the only Sunday amus.e.m.e.nt they have. Did you notice that sick guy?"

"Yes."

"He looked to me like he was plain starved. Our fellows had to carry him."

Colonel Lopez galloped up to inquire, anxiously, "Did you find those eatables, eh?"

"Yes, sir, and a lot more."

"Good! But I failed. Pickles? Caramba! n.o.body here ever heard of one!"

"Did we lose any men?" Judson asked.

"Not one. But Ramos was badly cut."

"So? Then he got to close quarters with some Spaniard?"

"Oh no!" The colonel grinned. "He was in too great a hurry and broke open a show-case with his fist."

The retreating Cubans still maintained their uproar, discharging their rifles into the air, shrieking defiance at their invisible foes, and voicing insulting invitations to combat. This ferocity, however, served only to terrify further the civil population and to close the shutters of San Antonio the tighter. Meanwhile, the loyal troops remained safely in their blockhouses, pouring a steady fire into the town. And despite this admirable display of courage the visitors showed a deep respect for their enemies' markmanship, taking advantage of whatever shelter there was.

Leslie Branch, of course, proved the solitary exception; as usual, he exposed himself recklessly and rode the middle of the streets, regardless of those sudden explosions of dust beneath his horse's feet or those unexpected showers of plaster from above.

He had spent his time a.s.siduously ransacking the deserted shops, and in addition to his huge bundle of bedding and his long string of straw hats he now possessed a miscellaneous a.s.sortment of plunder, in which were a bolt of calico, a pair of shoes, a collection of cooking-utensils, an umbrella, and--strangest of all--a large gilt-framed mirror. The safety of these articles seemed to concern him far more than his own. Spying O'Reilly, he shouted:

"Say! What's the Spanish word for 'clothing-store'? I need a new suit."

"Don't be an idiot!" Johnnie yelled at him. "Keep under cover."

But Branch only shook his head. "They couldn't hit anything," he cried.

The next instant, as if to punctuate his remark, a spent bullet smashed the mirror and sprinkled the speaker with particles of gla.s.s. It was only by a miracle that he escaped injury. Branch reined in his horse, examined the wreck, then with a petulant exclamation cast the useless frame away.

"Come on, Johnnie," Judson growled. "The d.a.m.n fool wants to get shot."

The sick man's bravado roused in O'Reilly a feeling of mingled resentment and apprehension, but further warning would obviously be a waste of breath. Nevertheless, being a little too tender-hearted to follow Judson's nonchalant example and ride on, O'Reilly held in his horse, meanwhile keeping an anxious eye upon his friend.

The latter was in no hurry; he jogged along leisurely, evidently on the lookout for an opportunity to replenish his wardrobe. Truth to say, this needed replenishing--Leslie resembled a scarecrow clad in a suit of soiled pajamas. But by this time most of the shops had their shutters up. When the last one had been left behind O'Reilly spurred his horse into a gallop, relieved to know that the worst was over.

The raiders had approached San Antonio de los Banos across the fields at the rear, but Colonel Lopez led their retreat by way of the camino real which followed the riverbank. This road for a short distance was exposed to the fire from one fort; then it was sheltered by a bit of rising ground.

O'Reilly, among the last to cross the zone of fire, was just congratulating himself upon the fortunate outcome of the skirmish when he saw Colonel Lopez ride to the crest of a knoll, rise in his stirrups and, lifting his cupped hands to his lips, direct a loud shout back toward the town. Lopez was followed by several of his men, who likewise began to yell and to wave their arms excitedly.

Johnnie turned to discover that Leslie Branch had lagged far behind, and now, as if to cap his fantastic performances, had dismounted and was descending the river-bank to a place where a large washing had been spread upon the stones to dry. He was quite exposed, and a spiteful crackle from the nearest blockhouse showed that the Spaniards were determined to bring him down. Mauser bullets ricocheted among the rocks--even from this distance their sharp explosions were audible--others broke the surface of the stream into little geysers, as if a school of fish were leaping.

While Johnnie looked on in breathless apprehension Branch appropriated several suits that promised to fit him; then he climbed up the bank, remounted his horse, and ambled slowly out of range.

Now this was precisely the sort of harebrained exploit which delights a Cuban audience. When Leslie rejoined his comrades, therefore, he was greeted with shouts and cheers.

"Caramba! He would risk his life for a clean shirt. ... There's a fellow for you! He enjoys the hum of these Spanish bees! ... Bravo!

Tell us what the bullets said to you," they cried, crowding around him in an admiring circle.

O'Reilly, unable to contain himself, burst forth in a rage: "You infernal fool! Do you want to be shot robbing a clothes-line?"

"Rats!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Leslie, sourly. "I TOLD you I had to have some clothes."

"Lopez ought to court-martial you. What are you going to do with that junk, now that you have it? You can't take it with you on the march."

"You wait and see," said the other. "I'm going to be comfortable, if--"

He paused, with a peculiar, startled expression on his face. "Did you hear anything?" he queried after a moment. "No. What?"

"Oh, nothing." The two men rode on in silence for a time, then Leslie said: "Queer thing happened back there while those Romeos were popping at me. I heard a baby crying."

"A baby?"

"Sure. I suppose it was the washerwoman's kid. When we flushed her she probably vamped out and left it in the gra.s.s. Anyhow, it let up an awful holler."

Jacket and the other loot-laden soldiers had been sent on ahead, together with those troopers who were sharing mounts with the rescued prisoners; they were now waiting perhaps two miles from town for their companions to overtake them. As the column came up and halted, O'Reilly addressed a remark to Leslie Branch, but in the middle of it the faint, unmistakable complaint of a child came to his ears.

"Listen!" he exclaimed. "What on earth--"

"I've been hearing it right along," Branch said. "I--I thought I had the w.i.l.l.i.e.s."

The nearest riders abruptly ceased their chatter; they questioned one another mutely, doubting their own ears. Again came that thin, m.u.f.fled wail, whereupon O'Reilly cried in astonishment:

"Leslie! Why, it--it's in YOUR BUNDLE!" He pointed to the formless roll of bedding which hung from his friend's saddle-horn.

"G'wan! You're crazy!" Branch slipped to the ground, seized the bundle in his arms, and bore it to the roadside. With shaking hands he tugged at the knotted corners of the comforter. "Pure imagination!" he muttered, testily. "There's nothing in here but bedclothes. I just grabbed an armful--" The last word ended in a yell. Leslie sprang into the air as if his exploring fingers had encountered a coiled serpent.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" He poised as if upon the point of flight. "Johnnie! Look!

It's ALIVE!"

"What's alive? What is it?"

With a sudden desperate courage Branch bent forward and spread out the bedding. There, exposed to the bulging eyes of the onlookers, was a very tiny, very brown baby. It was a young baby; it was quite naked.

Its eyes, exposed to the sudden glare of the morning sun, closed tightly; one small hand all but lost itself in the wide, toothless cavity that served as a mouth. Its ten ridiculous toes curled and uncurled in a most amazing fashion.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Branch repeated, aghast. "It's just b-born! Its eyes aren't open."

The Cubans, who had momentarily been stricken dumb with amazement, suddenly broke into voluble speech. The clamor served to attract Colonel Lopez, who was riding past.

"What's the matter here?" he demanded, forcing his horse through the ring which had formed about El Demonio and his bundle. One startled look and the colonel flung himself out of his saddle. "Whose baby is that?" he demanded.

"I--I--Why, it's mine. I mean, I--" Branch's eyes were glued upon the child in horrified fascination. He choked and stammered and waved his hands impotently.