The Coast of Adventure Part 35

It was not easy to make him understand what she wanted, but he looked thoughtful when she repeated a word the senora Garcia had taught her.

Then he went in, apparently to consult the woman, and, returning, signified that he would do what she wished. She must, however, go on alone to a village some distance off; on the way he would overtake her with a mule. Evelyn thought it curious that he had not asked for money, but as he seemed anxious that she should not delay she set off. So far, her escape had proved easier than she had imagined.

The sun was at its highest, and it was very hot; the road was a rough track where loose stones lay among the heavy dust. Where water ran down the hillside in artificial channels, there were palms and belts of foliage; elsewhere outcropping rock and stones flung up a dazzling brightness. In the background, rugged peaks rose against a sky of intense blue, and far off on the opposite hand a misty gleam indicated the sea.

Evelyn soon began to get tired, and she found her thin shoes badly suited to the roughness of the ground. The dust that rose about her gathered on her skin; she got hot and thirsty; but the water she tried to drink was slimy and she toiled on. It seemed wiser to press forward while she could, for there was n.o.body at work in the scattered fields.

Her eyes ached with the glare and her feet were sore, but the peon did not come, and when she looked back the road wound along the hillside, white and empty. Here and there tall trees filled the hollows among the rocks, but the country seemed deserted and she could not see a house anywhere.

At last, when the sun was low and the shadows were long and cool, she saw a cl.u.s.ter of small white patches shining amid a belt of green ahead, and supposed this was the _aldea_ the peon had meant. Limping on wearily, she came within half a mile of it, and then, finding a place where she was hidden by a clump of cactus, she sat down to watch the road. She might run some risk of being robbed or stopped if she entered the village alone, for it was obvious that a well-dressed foreigner traveling on foot could not hope to escape notice, and the hill peasants would probably not understand her few words of Castilian.

The shadows lengthened until they covered the hillside, and the air got cool, but her guide did not come, and Evelyn began to wonder what had delayed him. He had seemed willing to a.s.sist in her escape, and she suspected that he must sympathize with the revolutionaries; but, if so, it was strange that the senora Garcia should have known the pa.s.sword which had apparently decided him. She had, however, been told that these people were fond of intrigue, and that a general plot was often accompanied by minor conspiracies, so to speak, one inside the other.

The senora Garcia had perhaps some object of her own to serve; but this did not matter--it was more important that the peon did not arrive.

It began to get dark. The dew soaked Evelyn's thin dress, and she felt hungry and achingly tired. Then a light or two twinkled among the trees and some one began to sing to a guitar. The lights and the music, with their suggestions of home and rest after the day's toil, troubled the girl. She was alone and apparently deserted, with enemies behind her and the way ahead unknown. For a few minutes her courage failed and she was in danger of breaking down; then, with a determined effort, she recovered her calm and roused herself to listen.

The music had grown plainer, and she recognized an air she had heard when she sat with Grahame in the _patio_ of the International. The contrast was too great, and brought her poignant memories. She was no longer a person of consequence, indulged in every wish, but a homeless fugitive. Then she thought of Grahame, who had translated the song they were singing, for the plaintive refrain of _Las Aves Marinas_ carried clearly through the cooling air. Had the wild sea-hawk got her message, and was he already coming to her rescue? But even this was not of first consequence. What about the peon? Had he betrayed her?

Everything was silent upon the hillside, but a faint breeze was getting up and sighed among the stones. There was a splash of water in the distance, but no sound came from the road. It ran back, a dim white streak, into the deepening gloom, and then faded out of sight upon the shoulder of a hill. There was no movement on it as far as the girl could see.

She waited what seemed an interminable time, and then a faint drumming caught her attention, and grew into a welcome beat of hoofs. Some one was coming along the road. She watched eagerly, straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of the rider. At last an object emerged from the shadow, and as it drew nearer she could see that it was a man riding a mule.

With her nerves at high tension and her heart beating fast, Evelyn left her hiding place in the cacti and stepped out into the middle of the road. The man must see her now, and she had involved herself in fresh difficulties if he were not the peon she expected.

He came on fast; he had caught sight of her and was urging his mule.

When he pulled up beside her and dropped from the animal, muttering exclamations in an unknown tongue, Evelyn staggered. It was an Indian from the hills.

CHAPTER XXIV

IN THE CAMP OF THE HILLSMEN

Evelyn instinctively drew back a few paces. Through her brain was beating insistently the admonition that had helped her much in the past few days:

"_Keep calm! Don't let him think you are afraid!_"

Her first thought had been flight, to the village; but reason told her that was impossible. Here alone on the silent hillside, in the early night, a white woman with this strange Indian, there came over her again a pride in her American blood. She felt that she was a match for him, in wits if not in strength. And with the thought came courage.

She pointed to the mule, then to herself, then to the village; and explained in Spanish.

The Indian shook his head, and stood stolidly beside his mount. After his first exclamations he had remained silent, watching Evelyn intently; but she felt rea.s.sured when he made no move to approach her. As a matter of fact, his mind at that moment was a chaos of conjectures and possibilities; and while he hesitated Evelyn gasped with relief. Down the road, carrying distinctly over the night air, came the sound of furious riding--faint at first and then growing nearer, quickly nearer.

Even if it were not the peon, at least two strangers would be safer than one.

With a guttural grunt that might have meant anything, the Indian jumped upon his mule and started off toward the village, urging the animal along; and Evelyn stepped farther back into the shadow of the cacti. She felt that she had reached the breaking-point. Yet she must nerve herself this once more, for without her guide she could not go on.

The hoof-beats drew near; in a minute they would pa.s.s and the rider be swallowed up in the gloom beyond. Evelyn opened her mouth and tried to call to him; but her voice failed her. Her worn-out body and her overtaxed nerves were holding her powerless to move or cry. She could only stand, helpless, and watch him sweep past.

But the peon's keen eyes had caught sight of the white dress fluttering against the dark outline of the cacti, and even as he pa.s.sed he reined in his mule. A few moments later he was beside her, holding his battered hat in his hand.

"Your servant, senorita," he said courteously.

Evelyn never could remember distinctly what happened after that. She had only a hazy recollection of climbing upon the mule and trying to cling there, while the man trotted beside her carrying a long, iron-pointed staff. Somewhere near the village they had turned off the main road and followed a rough path that led up into the hills. And there they had stopped at a small _hacienda_, where Evelyn was hospitably received.

When she woke the next morning, in a clean little adobe room, and found a neat-looking Spanish woman smiling upon her, Evelyn smiled in return.

Every muscle in her body ached, and the soles of her feet were blistered, but, for the first time in many days, she felt a sense of perfect security. Still smiling, she murmured the pa.s.sword of the revolutionaries. It meant much to her now.

"_Confianza!_"

They had a hasty breakfast and started again, but rested for some time in a belt of forest during the heat of the day. In the early evening they approached a white _aldea_ perched high upon the edge of a ravine.

Evelyn's guide made her understand that they might not be allowed to pa.s.s. He implied that she was in no danger, but it was with some anxiety that she rode toward the village.

They skirted the side of the ravine, which was fretted with tumbling cataracts. Steep rocks ran up from the edge of the trail and were lost in climbing forest a hundred feet above, but after a time the chasm began to widen, and small, square houses straggled about its slopes. A barricade of logs, however, closed the road, and as Evelyn approached two men stepped out from behind it. They were ragged and unkempt, but they carried good modern rifles.

"Halt!" ordered one of them.

"_Confianza!_" the guide answered, smiling, and they let him pa.s.s.

Beyond the barricade, the guide stopped in front of an adobe building that seemed to be an inn, for a number of saddled mules were tied around it. Men were entering and leaving and a hum of voices came from the shadowy interior, but the peon motioned to Evelyn that she must get down and wait. Finding a stone bench where she was left undisturbed, she sat there for half an hour while it grew dark, and then a man came up and beckoned her to enter. She went with some misgivings, and was shown into a room with rough mud walls, where a man sat under a smoky lamp at a table upon which a map and a number of papers were spread. He wore plain, white clothes, with a wide red sash; and two others, dressed in the same way, stood near, as if awaiting his orders. Evelyn knew the man, for she had seen him at the International.

"_Confianza!_" she said. "I believe you are Don Martin Sarmiento."

He gave her a quick glance, and answered in good English:

"It is a surprise to receive a visit from Miss Cliffe. But I must ask who gave you the pa.s.sword?"

"Senora Garcia at Rio Frio."

"That sounds strange. But sit down. There is something we must talk about."

He waited until one of the men brought her a chair.

"I understand you were going to Villa Paz," he then said.

"Yes; I am anxious to join my father."

"I am not sure that will be possible; but we will speak of it again.

First of all, I must know why you left Valverde." Sarmiento indicated the others. "These are officers of mine, but they do not speak English, and it is not necessary that you should know their names. You have nothing to fear from us, but I must urge you to be frank."

Evelyn tried to think calmly. She was in the man's power, and he wore the stamp of command, but she liked his look and did not feel afraid of him. It might be wiser to be candid; but she had an embarra.s.sing story to tell and she began with some hesitation. Sarmiento helped her, now with a nod of comprehension as she slurred over an awkward pa.s.sage, and now with a look of sympathy, while the others stood silent with expressionless faces.

"Gomez is, of course, a scoundrel, and you were wise to run away," he commented when she stopped. "There are, however, matters I do not quite understand. For example, it would not be to the President's interest that he should quarrel with your father; nor do I think Altiera would approve of an alliance between his secretary and you."

Evelyn blushed and tried to meet the man's searching look.

"I cannot explain these things. I have told you what happened, and I came to you with--confidence."