The Mystery of The Barranca Part 7

Though it was scarcely his thought, Seyd allowed it to go at that.

Throwing the ends of the halters to Billy, the _mozo_ concluded his mission. "It remains only to say that Don Luis will have you come to San Nicolas till your wound is cured."

"Fine!" Billy enthusiastically commented, when the invitation was translated. "I've said all along that you ought to lay off. Go down for a week. By the time you come back I'll have these chaps beautifully broken."

"And you unable to speak a word of Spanish--not to mention the risk to your throat?" Seyd shook his head. "Besides, the old fellow made no bones of his feelings the other day. The invitation is merely in reparation for what he considers a violation of his hospitality. If it wasn't--My place is here."

Accordingly, the _mozo_ carried back to San Nicolas a note which, if not penned in the best Spanish, yet caught its grave courtesy so cleverly that its perusal at the dinner table caused Francesca to pause and listen, drew an approving smile from the senora, and produced from Don Luis his heavy nod.

"The young man is a fine _caballero_. Your ordinary gringo would have saddled himself upon us for three months, and we should have been worn to skeletons by his parrot chatter. As he lets us off so easily, I must ride up to the mine and warn those rascals to play him no tricks."

Meanwhile Seyd and Billy had been giving the disposition of the said rascals considerable thought. After the _mozo_ left, Billy cut the halters from around their necks and brought them food and drink from the house. But whether or no they considered this fair front as being a.s.sumed to emphasize future tortures the two kept their sullen silence.

"If we have to stand guard all the time we'd be better without them,"

Billy doubted.

"Yes," Seyd acquiesced. "Unless we can find some incentive. I wonder if they have families." When the two returned nods to his questions he continued, hopefully: "There we have it. Your Mexican peon takes homesickness worse than a Swiss. If we offer them a fair wage while the smelter is building I think they'll prove faithful. At least we can try."

To an experienced eye--the _mozo's_, for instance--the sudden brightening of the dark faces might have meant something else than relief. At first Caliban seemed to find the good news impossible. But presently, setting it down as another idiocy of the foolish gringos, his incredulity vanished. In one hour he and the rice-huller were transformed from sullen foes to eager servants. Indeed, what with their willing work that afternoon and next morning, the smelter foundation had risen a full yard by the time that Don Luis came riding up to the bench.

Looking up from a blue print of the foundation, Seyd saw him coming at the heavy trot which combined military stiffness with vaquero ease, and noting the keen glance with which he swept the bench the thought flashed upon him, "Now the cat's out of the bag!" He did not, however, try to smuggle the animal in again. When, greetings over, Don Luis turned a curious eye on the foundation he answered the unspoken question. "A smelter, senor."

"A smelter?" For once the old fellow's ma.s.sive self possession showed slight disturbance. "I thought--"

"That it took a fortune to build one." Seyd filled in his pause. "It does--to put in a modern plant." While he went on explaining that this was merely an old-style Welch furnace of small capacity he felt the constraint under the old man's quiet, and was thereby stimulated to a mischievous addition. "You see, the freight rates on crude ore from this point are prohibitive, but one can make good money by smelting it down into copper matte."

"A good plan, senor." Like a tremor on a brown pool, his disquiet pa.s.sed. "And how long will it be in the building?"

"We had calculated on four months. But with the help you so kindly sent us we can do it now in two."

He could not altogether repress a mischievous twinkle. But Don Luis gave no sign. "_Bueno!_ It was for this that I came--to read these rascals their lesson." Menacing the peons with a weighty forefinger, he went on: "Now, listen, _hombres_! Since it has pleased the senor to save you alive, see that you repay his mercy with faithful labor. If there be any failure, tricks, or night flittings, remember that there is never a rabbit hole in all Mexico but where Luis Garcia can find you."

Emphasizing the threat with another shake of his finger, he turned and went on with quiet indifference to comment upon the scenery. "A beautiful spot. Once I had thought to build here, but one cannot live on the edge of a cliff, and San Nicolas has its charm. Is it true that we cannot tempt you to come down? The senora begs that you reconsider."

But he nodded his appreciation of Seyd's reasons. "_Si, si,_ a man's place is with his work--and I have stayed too long. There is business forward at Chilpancin, and even now I should be miles on the way."

"Will you not stay for lunch?" Seyd protested.

But replying that he had already lunched at a ranch in the valley, the old man rode away on his usual heavy lope. "You see," Seyd commented, watching him go, "it is all right for me to accept his invitation, but he will not eat of our bread."

"Well, I don't blame him," Billy answered. "I'd feel sore myself if I were he. But, say, we're getting quite gay up here. Regular social whirl. I wonder who's next? We only need mamma to complete the family."

The remark was prophetic, for, while the senora did not herself brave the Barranca steeps, only two days thereafter Francesca and the _mozo_ reappeared driving before them a mule whose panniers were crammed with eggs and cheese, b.u.t.ter and honey, fruit, both fresh and preserved, also a full stock of bandages, liniments, curative simples, and home-made cordials. While unpacking them on the table in their house the girl laughingly explained that if Seyd would not come to be cured the cures must needs come to him.

"This is a wash for the wound." She patted a large fat jug. "This other is to be taken every hour. Of this liquor you must take a gla.s.s at bed-time. Those pills must be swallowed when you rise. This"--noting Billy's furtive grin, she finished with a laugh--"you will not have room for more. Give the rest to Mr. Thornton. But under pain of the good mamma's severest displeasure I am to see you drink at least two cups of this soup."

"You shall if you stay to lunch," Seyd said. "Billy makes gorgeous biscuit, and they'll go finely with the honey."

"If you can eat bacon--we have only that and a few canned things," Billy added, a little dubiously, and would have extended the list of shortcomings only that she broke in:

"Just what I like. I'm tired of Mexican cooking, and I am dreadfully hungry."

That this was no idle a.s.sertion she presently proved, and while she ate of their rough food with the appet.i.te of perfect health their acquaintance progressed with the leaps and bounds natural to youth.

Before the end of the meal she had drawn Billy completely out of his painful bashfulness, and he was telling her with great pride of his beautiful sister while she contemplated her photograph with head held delicately askew.

"Yes, she's fair," he told her, adding with great pride, "but not a bit like me."

"The most wonderful hair!" Seyd volunteered. "Darkest t.i.tian above a skin of milk."

"Oh, you make me envious!" she cried, with real feeling. "I love red hair. Luisa Zuluaga, my schoolmate in Brussels, had it combined with great black Spanish eyes. She got her colors from an Irish great grandfather who came over a century ago to coin pesos for the Mexican mint. Now, why couldn't I have had them?"

Observing the fine-spun cloud that flew like a dark mist around the ivory face, Seyd could not find it in his heart to blame her grandfather, and, if good taste debarred him from saying it, the belief was nevertheless expressed through the permitted language of the eyes.

Perhaps this accounted for the suddenness with which her long dark lashes swept down over certain mischievous lights.

Any but an expert in feminine psychology might indeed have found himself puzzled by certain phases of her manner. Its sympathy, addressing Billy, would give place to a slight reserve with Seyd, then this would melt and give place to unaffected friendliness. Occasionally, too, she offered all the witchery of her smiles, yet the hypothetical expert would never have suspected her of coquetry. The feeling was far too mischievous for the fencing of s.e.x. Its key was to be found in the thought that pa.s.sed in her mind. "'Almost pretty enough to marry,' you said. The trouble is that my girlish beauty is in inverse ratio to my future fatness. What a pity!"

Yet this little touch of pique was never sufficiently p.r.o.nounced to interfere with her real enjoyment. As for them--it was a golden occasion. If they ate little, they still feasted their eyes on the face that bloomed like a rich flower in the soft shadows of the adobe hut, their ears on her low laughter and soft woman's speech. They found it hard to believe when she sprang up with a little cry: "I have been here two hours! Now I have earned my scolding. The _madre_ only let me come under a solemn promise to be back before sunset."

Had they been unaware of the princ.i.p.al concomitant in the charm of the hour, knowledge would have been forced upon them when she rode away, for, though the birds still sang and the hot sun poured a flood of light and heat down on the bench, somehow things looked and felt cold and gray.

And she? Going downgrade an afterglow of smiles lent force to her murmur: "Gringos or no, they are very nice."

CHAPTER VIII

A hard gallop of eight miles carried Francesca to the forks where the path to and from Santa Gertrudis joined the main valley trail, and she had traveled no more than a hundred yards beyond before she was roused from renewed musings by the thud of hoofs. Turning in her saddle, she saw Sebastien coming along the valley trail at a gallop. Pa.s.sing the _mozo_, whose beast had lagged, the hacendado pulled his beast down to a trot, and as Tomas, answering a question, nodded backward toward the hills, vexation swept the girl's face.

It cleared, however, as quickly, and while waiting for Sebastien she measured him with a narrow glance. The straight, lithe figure, easy carriage, dark, quiet face could stand inspection, and she paid unconscious tribute. "If I hadn't gone to Europe I suppose--" A decided shake of the head completed while dismissing the thought. In the next breath she murmured, "Now for a fight." Yet her expression, saluting him, displayed no apprehension.

"Yes, I was at Santa Gertrudis." She quietly answered his question. "Two of our people shot one of the gringos as he was leaving our place, and the good _mama_ would have it that it was our duty to cure him."

"Ah! the good mother?" He raised his brows. "And she chose you for her doctor?"

"As you see."

"Yes, I see. 'No, Francesca, thou canst not go. It would not be right for a young girl--well, if you must--' I hear it as though I had been there, and wonder that the senora, who was brought up in the letter of our conventions, should send her daughter to a gringo camp with only a _mozo_ for escort. But Don Luis? Is he also mad?"

"No, only wise." She answered with irritating simplicity. "Take care that you do not put heavier strains on a slight kinship. Third, fifth, tenth, just what is the degree of our cousinship?"

"G.o.d knows!" He shrugged. "The slighter the better. 'Twill serve till replaced by a closer."

"Which will be never."

"Only the G.o.ds say 'never.'" He quoted the proverb. "But returning to your _amigos_, the gringos--"