The Dust of Conflict Part 12

She fancied she spent at least an hour in the church, listening with apprehension to the clamor that broke out and sank again outside. There were murmurs inside the building, and an occasional rustling of the leather curtains, but this told her nothing; and at last, unable to bear the suspense any longer, she moved softly towards the door. The town was almost silent when she reached it, and there was a light burning in what appeared to be a wine shop across the plaza. She could also hear laughter as well as the tinkle of a guitar; and as this did not indicate fear she decided to enter the shop and endeavor to hire somebody to search for her father. Unfortunately, however, she did not remember a saying common in Spain respecting the fondness of evil-livers for the sound of church bells.

She flitted across the plaza without molestation, and then stopped in front of a building which bore a scroll announcing that it was a cafe. A blaze of light shone out from it, and looking in between the wooden pillars she could see the little tables and wine barricas. Then she gasped, for in place of reputable citizens the tables were occupied by women with powdered faces in cheap bravery and ragged men with rifles slung behind them. The light also showed her standing white in face with torn garments and the jewels sparkling at her neck to the revellers; and a man of dusky skin, with a machete hanging at his belt, sprang up with a shout.

There was a burst of laughter, and Nettie Harding fled, with the patter of several pairs of feet growing louder behind her, until two men came forward to meet her. They, however, let her pa.s.s; there was an altercation, and she stood still, trembling, when a cry in English reached her. Then she saw three or four dim figures moving back towards the cafe and the two men coming towards her. One of them also raised a hand to his big shapeless hat.

"I scarcely think they will trouble you any more," he said in Castilian, which Nettie could understand.

She said nothing for a moment, but stood still looking at the men, and wondering whether they could be trusted. She could, however, see very little of them, and found a difficulty in expressing herself in Castilian.

"Can you tell me whether the Hotel Cuatro Naciones is safe?" she asked in faltering English. "I lost my companion leaving it."

"I scarcely think it is," said one of the men, whose accentuation was unmistakably English. "You were staying there?"

"Yes," said Nettie. "My father was separated from me by the crowd."

One of the men said something she did not hear to his comrade, while just then a cry of alarm came out of the darkness, and was followed by a rush of feet. Then the man who had spoken turned to her again.

"I'm afraid you can't stay here," he said, with evident perplexity.

As he spoke a crowd of shadowy men surged about them, but he called out angrily in Castilian, and before she quite realized what he was doing drew the girl's hand beneath his arm. Then there was laughter and a shout: "Excuses, Don Bernardino. Pa.s.s on, comrades!"

Nettie would have s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand free, but the man held it fast with a little warning pressure, and she went on with him, partly because his voice had been deferential and puzzlingly familiar, and also because it was evident that she could not get away. They went up a calle, where another band of roysterers came clamoring to meet them, until the man led her under an archway where a lamp was burning. Then he gravely dropped her hand, and Nettie gasped as she stared at him. He was burned to the color of coffee, his shoes were burst, and his garments, which had evidently never been intended to fit him, were mostly rags, but his face reminded her of the man she had met on board the "Aurania."

"It is perhaps not astonishing that you don't seem to recognize me, Miss Harding," he said. "You have no idea where your father can have gone to?"

"No," said the girl, with a little tremor of relief. "He must be in the town, and I would be very grateful if you could take me to him. Of course, I know you now."

"Is your father Cyrus Harding-Sugar Harding-of New York?" the other man broke in.

"Yes," said the girl, and the man drew his comrade aside.

"You and I have got to see her through, and your quarters would be the safest place," he said.

Appleby stared at him as he asked, "Have you taken leave of your senses, Harper?"

"No," said his companion dryly. "I guess they're where they are of most use to me. Everybody's ent.i.tled to what he can pick up to-night, and there are not many of the Sin Verguenza would dispute your claim. It's beginning to strike you?"

"I hope it will not strike Miss Harding too," said Appleby, whose face flushed. "Still, I can think of nothing else."

Then he went back slowly to where the girl was standing.

"I fancy I can find you shelter if you will trust yourself to me; and when your father asks any of my men about you they will send him to you," he said. "It is, however, necessary that you should take my arm."

Nettie flashed a swift glance at him, but the man was regarding her steadily with gravely sympathetic eyes, and it was with a curious intuitive confidence she moved away with him. They pa.s.sed bands of roysterers and houses with shattered doors, and finally entered a patio littered with furniture. An olive-faced man with a rifle stood on guard in it, and the color swept into the girl's face as she saw his grin; but he let them pa.s.s, and Appleby went on, moving stiffly, and very grim in face, up a stairway that led to a veranda. There he took down a lantern that hung on a lattice, and gave it the girl as he pointed to a door.

"There is a strong bolt inside," he said in a curiously even voice. "I do not know of any other place in Santa Marta where you would be as safe to-night."

Nettie turned with a little shiver, and looked down into the patio.

There were lights behind most of the lattices, and she could hear loud laughter and the clink of gla.s.ses, while here and there ragged figures with rifles showed up on the veranda. Then she straightened herself with an effort and looked steadily at Appleby. He stood wearily before her, very ragged, and very disreputable as far as appearance went, but he did not avoid her gaze.

"Where am I?" she asked, with a faint tremor in her voice.

"I believe this was the Alcalde's house. It is occupied by the Insurgent leaders now."

"Then," said the girl, with a little gasp, "why did you bring me here?"

"I can escort you back to the plaza if you wish it," said Appleby quietly. "Still, you would be running serious risks, and I believe I can answer for your security here. You see, I am an officer of the Sin Verguenza."

Nettie gasped again, and once more shot a swift glance at him. Appleby was standing very still, and save for the weariness in it his face was expressionless. Then without a word she turned and went into the room, while Harper smiled softly when he heard the bolt shot home. The room, she found, was evidently a sleeping chamber, for there was a cheap iron bedstead in it, and articles of male attire were scattered about the floor. From the quant.i.ty of them, and the manner in which they were lying, it also appeared that somebody had been endeavoring to ascertain which would fit him. Then Nettie, remembering the rags the man wore, sat down somewhat limply with burning cheeks in the single chair, until a little burst of meaningless laughter that was tinged with hysteria shook her.

In the meanwhile Appleby dropped into a cane chair further along the veranda and laid his rifle across his knees. "My head's aching, and I can't see quite straight," he said. "See if you can get me a little wine somewhere, Harper. Then you had better go along and find out what those rascals of mine are after, and if anybody has seen Harding."

Harper shook his head. "I guess I've had 'bout enough of them for one night, and if any indignant citizen slips a knife into one of them it's not going to be a great loss to anybody," he said. "You know who that girl is?"

"Miss Nettie Harding. I met her on the 'Aurania' coming out."

Harper smiled. "Well," he said reflectively, "it's not every day one of the Sin Verguenza is honored with the custody of a young woman who lives in one of the smartest houses on the Hudson. It strikes me there's money in the thing, and I'm going to stop right here, and be handy when Sugar Harding comes along, though I don't know that he'd think much of me as a chaperon in this outfit."

"Get me some wine," said Appleby, while the bronze deepened in his forehead. "I have got to keep awake, and don't feel inclined for any foolery."

Harper went away chuckling, and Appleby sat still. The blow he had received in the attack had shaken him, and he had spent that day and most of the night before it in forced marching. It was some time before Harper returned, and in the meanwhile the Captain Maccario came up the stairway. He stopped in front of Appleby, and shrugged his shoulders expressively.

"The senorita is disdainful, then?" he said.

Appleby devoutly hoped Miss Harding did not understand Castilian, and attempted no explanation. He had more than a suspicion that it would not be credited, but his face was a trifle grim when he looked up at his comrade.

"There are times when a wise man asks no questions, my friend," he said.

"If any one tries to get into the room I have taken to-night he will be sorry."

Maccario, who was an easy-going Andalusian, laughed somewhat significantly, and Appleby, glancing at the half-opened lattice, wondered with unpleasant misgivings whether Miss Harding had heard him.

As it happened, she had, and clenched her hands as she listened. Still, even then she remembered that the man who had brought her there had said there was no place in Santa Marta where she would be more secure. It seemed a bold a.s.sertion, but she felt that it could be credited.

"Well," said the Spaniard, whose eyes still twinkled, "we march at sunrise, and there are richer prizes than pretty faces to be picked up to-night. The others are busy collecting them. Is it wise to lose one's chances for a senorita who is unsympathetic?"

The humorous Maccario came very nearly receiving a painful astonishment just then, but by an effort Appleby kept his temper. "My money is my friend's, but not my affairs," he said. "Tell your men if they can find an American with blue eyes to bring him here. It will be worth their while."

Maccario tossed a handful of cigars into his comrade's knees. "The Colonel Morales smokes good tobacco, and they were his. If we find the American we will send him to you. It is by misfortune we do not find the Colonel Morales."

He went away, and by and by Harper came back with a flask of red wine and a roll of matting, which he spread out at the top of the stairway.

"I'm pretty big, and anybody who treads on me will get a little surprise," he said. "You have just got to say 'Gunboat' if you want me."

He was apparently asleep in five minutes, but Appleby lay motionless in his chair with every sense alert. The laughter and hum of voices had died away, and only an occasional hoa.r.s.e shouting rose from the town.

His eyes were fixed on the patio, and his hands, which were hard and brown, clenched on the rifle; but his thoughts were far away in a garden where the red beech leaves strewed the velvet gra.s.s in peaceful England, and it was not Nettie Harding's blue eyes, but Violet Wayne's calm gray ones that seemed to look into his. Harper's words by the camp fire were bearing fruit, and he was ready to admit now that it was a woman who had sent him there. There was also satisfaction in the thought that he was serving her, which was the most he could look for, since his part was to give and not expect, but he felt that she would approve of what he was doing then. So the time slipped by; while Nettie Harding, still sitting behind the lattice, now and then raised her head and looked at him. His att.i.tude betokened his watchfulness, and with a little sigh of relief she sank back into her chair again. That ragged figure with the grim, brown face seemed an adequate barrier between her and whatever could threaten her.

At last there was a trampling below, and several dusky men staggering suggestively came up the stairway. The girl heard the sound, and shivered as she watched them, until a gaunt figure rose up from beneath their feet. Then they stopped, and one of them fell down the steps and reeled with a crash against a pillar at the bottom.

"You can stop there. There is plenty of room in the stable," said a voice; and when Appleby flung up a hand commandingly the men went away, and there was quietness again.