The Buccaneer Farmer Part 26

THE PRESIDENT'S WATCHERS

When Kit was half way across the alameda he stopped and looked about.

Dark trees rose against the sky; he could smell the eucalyptus and their thin shadows covered the ground with a quivering, open pattern. There was a pool of moonlight, and farther on the solid, fan-shaped reflections of palms. n.o.body was near him, although he heard voices across the alameda, and he stood for a few moments, thinking, while his heart beat.

Since he had refused Olsen's offer, caution was advisable, because Kit felt sure the fellow had expected him to agree, and it was obvious that he knew enough to make him dangerous. He distrusted Olsen, who was not a native American, and probably not a Norwegian, as he pretended. There was a mystery about his employers, but Kit suspected that they were Germans, and as a rule the latters' commercial intrigues were marked by an unscrupulous cunning of which few of their rivals seemed capable. This was admitting much, since the foreign adventurers did not claim high principles.

On the surface, it was obviously prudent to take the shortest line to the presidio, but Kit reflected that Olsen would expect him to do so. It might be better to put him off the track by going another way and Kit was anxious to know if he had left the cafe. Stepping back into the shadow, he made for another path and a few minutes afterwards returned to the street. He glanced at the cafe as he walked past and saw that Olsen was not there. He thought this ominous, since it indicated that the fellow had gone to consult his revolutionary friends and Kit imagined they would try to prevent his reaching the presidio. He seldom carried a pistol, which was difficult to hide when one wore thin white clothes. On the whole, he had found a suspicious bulge in one's pocket rather apt to provoke than to save one from attack; but he was sorry he had not a pistol now.

Kit went back across the alameda, hoping he had put Olsen's friends off the track. If so, he would be safe until he got near the presidio, when he must be cautious. He pa.s.sed two or three groups of people, and now and then heard steps behind, but the steps were followed by voices that relieved his anxiety. For all that, he was glad to leave the alameda and turn up a street.

The street was narrow, hot, and dirty. There was a smell of decaying rubbish and the rancid oil used in cooking. One side was in shadow, and almost unbroken walls rose from the rough pavement. For the most part, the outside windows were narrow slits, since the houses got light from the central patio. Here and there an oil-lamp marked a corner, but that was all, and Kit kept in the moonlight and looked about keenly when he pa.s.sed a shadowy door. Perspiration trickled down his face and he felt an unpleasant nervous tension. Yet n.o.body came near him and when he cautiously glanced round n.o.body was lurking in the gloom. He began to think he had cheated Olsen, but admitted that it was too soon to slacken his watchfulness.

At one corner, he saw two figures in shabby white uniform, and hesitated.

In Spanish-American countries, the government generally maintains a force of carefully picked men, entrusted with powers that are seldom given to ordinary police. They patrol in couples, carry arms, and are sometimes called _guardias civiles_ and sometimes _rurales_. Kit knew he could trust the men, but doubted if they could leave their post; besides he did not want Olsen to know he thought it needful to ask for protection. Now he came to think of it, he had seen the _rurales_ outside the cafe and at another corner. Perhaps this was why he had been left alone.

He went on, rather reluctantly, and by and by reached the broad square in front of the presidio. The old building was clear in the moonlight; Kit could see a sentry on the terrace and a faint glow in the slit in the wall that marked Adam's room. It was hardly two-hundred yards off and he would be safe before he reached the arch, but a grove of small palms and shrubs ran between him and the square. There were rails behind the trees and the nearest opening was some distance off. A high blank wall threw a dark shadow that stretched across the road by the rails and met the gloom of the trees.

Kit looked about, without stopping or turning his head much. There was n.o.body in sight, but he somehow felt that he was not alone. It was a disturbing, and apparently an illogical, feeling that he must not indulge, and pulling himself together he went on, with his fist clenched.

He was not far from the gate, and although he listened hard could only hear his own steps and voices in a neighboring street. Yet his nerves tingled and his muscles got tense. In front, a thick, dark ma.s.s that looked like a clump of euphorbia or cactus stood beside the path, and just beyond it a bright beam of moonlight shone between the drooping branches of the palms.

He thought the spot the beam touched was dangerous. As he crossed it his figure would be strongly illuminated and he would have his back to the dark bush. He wanted to move aside and go round the bush, but this might give somebody time to spring out and get between him and the gate. The gate was close by and he was strangely anxious to reach it. For all that, he was not going to indulge his imagination.

He plunged into the gloom, without deviating from his path, and conquered a nervous impulse that urged him to run. When he had nearly pa.s.sed the bush he thought he heard a movement and a thick stalk of the cactus shook. Half instinctively, Kit leaped forward and felt something soft brush against his shoulder. As he swung round, in the moonlight, with his mouth set and his hand drawn back to strike, he saw a blanket on the ground. There was nothing else and he breathed hard as he searched the gloom. The blanket had not been there before.

Next moment, a dark figure sprang from the shadow and a knife flashed in the moonlight; then he heard a heavy report and a puff of smoke blew past his head. The figure swerved and, staggering awkwardly, fell with a heavy thud. It did not move afterwards, and while Kit gazed at it dully a man in white uniform ran past and stooped beside the fellow on the ground. Kit vacantly noted that a little smoke curled from the muzzle of his pistol.

"One cartridge is enough," he said coolly. "Your worship did not escape by much."

Another _rural_ came out of the bushes and when they turned over the body Kit saw a dark face and a long, thin knife clenched in a brown hand. He understood now that the blanket had been meant to entangle his arm or head; half-breed peons often carry a rolled-up blanket of good quality on their shoulder.

"It is Gil Ortega," the _rural_ remarked. "A good shot that will save us some trouble, comrade!"

"How did you come here when you were wanted?" Kit asked as calmly as he could.

The _rural_ smiled. "By the president's order, senor. We were watching the cafe."

"But it looks as if you had got in front of me."

"It is so, senor. We thought it best to follow this fellow. He lost you when you turned back."

Kit nodded, for he remembered that he had instinctively avoided one or two dark lanes that would have given him a shorter line than the streets.

Ortega and the _rurales_ had taken the shorter way. He thought it curious the report had not drawn a crowd, but although he heard voices n.o.body came near and he imagined the citizens were used to pistol shots. Giving the _rurales_ some money, he crossed the square to the presidio and going to his room lighted a cigarette. He thought a smoke might be soothing, for he had got a jar.

After a time, he went to look for Alvarez and found him sitting in front of a table in the patio. A soldier stood not far off, but the president was alone and the light of a shaded lamp fell upon a bundle of letters and doc.u.ments. Alvarez worked hard and had inherited a rather austere simplicity from his Indian ancestors. Kit thought his plain white clothes and quiet calm gave him dignity.

"It looks as if my enemies meant to lose no time," he said, in English, when Kit told him about his adventure.

"It's their third try in a few weeks," Kit agreed. "Don't you find the uncertainty about where they'll strike next rather wearing?"

Alvarez shrugged. "One gets used to these affairs; a custom of the country, and there is something to be said for it. If the plot succeeds, it is an easy way of turning out a president and changing the government.

Perhaps it is better to kill a man or two than fight round barricades and burn the town."

"In the North, we find it possible to change our government by vote."

"You are cold-blooded people and don't understand the pa.s.sions of the South," Alvarez rejoined with cynical humor. "We have tried your plan, but one must be rich to buy the votes. Besides, if one is beaten at the polls, there remains the last appeal to the knife. But you will let this go. We have something else to talk about."

"That is so," said Kit. "To begin with, I must thank you for sending your _rurales_ to look after me."

"It is nothing," Alvarez replied in a deprecatory tone. "You are my guest and we try to take care of foreigners, because if they meet with accidents their consuls ask embarra.s.sing questions. Besides, watching them serves two objects."

"Then, I expect you know I met Olsen at the cafe?" Kit suggested dryly.

Alvarez smiled. "Yes; I know. But I was not suspicious."

"After all, one doesn't generally conspire in a public place. In fact, I don't understand why Olsen met me there."

"He may have meant to compromise you; to put doubts in my mind."

"It's possible, now I think of it," Kit a.s.sented. "I hope he didn't succeed."

"I know my friends, Don Cristoval. But what did the fellow want? I do not know all."

"Your spies are pretty smart, but I expect our colloquial English puzzled them," Kit remarked, smiling. "However, I was going to tell you--"

He narrated what Olsen had said and Alvarez looked thoughtful.

"Galdar must be nearly ready; he has been quicker than I imagined. What are you going to do about the steamer?"

"I'll wait until tomorrow. If my uncle is well enough, he must decide."

"But if he is no better?" Alvarez asked.

Kit gave him a level glance. "Then I will send Mayne orders to run all risks and start, whether his engines are repaired or not."

"Ah," said Alvarez with a bow, "Olsen was foolish when he tried to bribe you! I suppose this is your answer! Well, it is lucky that a fast schooner sails to a port from which a telegram can be sent. When your orders are ready I will see that they go."

Next morning Kit found Adam lying half awake after a night of delirium.

The old man's eyes were heavy, his brain was dull, and the doctor, who came in, made Kit a sign not to disturb him. Kit went out and spent some time writing a message to Mayne. It was necessary that the captain should know what he must do, but Kit was anxious to give no hint about the importance of speed that others would understand. He meant to guard against his orders being read by spies in Olsen's pay.

When he had sealed the envelope and addressed it as the president had told him, he went down to the patio and found a peon talking to a guard.

"This man is the mate of the Catalina and wants to see you," said the guard, and when he went off Kit turned to the other, who looked like a sailor.

"My wife lives in the town and I have been at home for a day or two,"

said the man. "I am going back to the schooner now and was told you had a letter for the patron."

Kit put his hand in his pocket. Although he had expected the mayor-domo would come for the message, there was not much formality at the presidio, and the fellow was obviously a sailor. Yet Kit hesitated and as he stood with his hand on the envelope thought the other's eyelids flickered. The flicker was almost too slight to notice, but it hinted at nervousness and Kit dropped the message back.