CHAPTER XI
The following Saturday evening Ramon was again riding across the _mesa_,clad in his dirty hunting clothes, with his shotgun hung in the cinches ofhis saddle. At the start he had been undecided where he was going.Tormented by desire and bitter over the poverty which stood between himand fulfilment, he had flung the saddle on his mare and ridden away,feeling none of the old interest in the mountains, but impelled by a greatneed to escape the town with all its cruel spurs and resistances.
Already the rhythm of his pony's lope and the steady beat of the breeze inhis face had calmed and refreshed him. The bitter, exhausting thoughtsthat had been plucking at his mind gave way to the idle procession ofsensations, as they tend always to do when a man escapes the artificialexistence of towns into the natural, animal one of the outdoors. He beganto respond to the deep appeal which the road, the sense of goingsomewhere, always had for him. For he came of a race of wanderers. Hisforbears had been restless men to cross an ocean and most of a continentin search of homes. He was bred to a life of wandering and adventure. Longpent-up days in town always made him restless, and the feel of a horseunder him and of distance to be overcome never failed to give him a senseof well-being.
Crossing a little _arroyo_, he saw a covey of the blue desert quail withtheir white crests erect, darting among the rocks and cactus on thehillside. It was still the close season, but he never thought of that. Inan instant he was all hunter, like a good dog in sight of game. He slippedfrom his horse, letting the reins fall to the ground, and went running upthe rocky slope, cleverly using every bit of cover until he came withinrange. At the first shot he killed three of the birds, and got another asthey rose and whirred over the hill top. He gathered them up quickly,stepping on the head of a wounded one, and stuffed them into his pockets.He was grinning, now, and happy. The bit of excitement had washed from hismind for the time being the last vestige of worry. He lit a cigarette andlay on his back to smoke it, stretching out his legs luxuriously, watchingthe serene gyrations of a buzzard. When he had extracted the last possiblepuff from the tobacco, he went back to his horse and rode on towardArchulera's ranch, feeling a keen interest in the coarse but substantialsupper which he knew the old man would give him.
His visit this time proceeded just as had all of the others, and he hadnever enjoyed one more thoroughly. Again the old man killed a fatted kidin his honour, and again they had a great feast of fresh brains and tripeand biscuits and coffee, with the birds, fried in deep lard, as an addedluxury. Catalina served them in silence as usual, but stole now and then aquick reproachful look at Ramon. Afterward, when the girl had gone, therewere many cigarettes and much talk, as before, Archulera telling overagain the brave wild record of his youth. And, as always, he told, just asthough he had never told it before, the story of how Diego Delcasar hadcheated him out of his interest in a silver mine in the GuadelupeMountains. As with each former telling he became this time moreunrestrained in his denunciation of the man who had betrayed him.
"You are not like him," he assured Ramon with passionate earnestness. "Youare generous, honourable! When your uncle is dead--when he is dead, Isay--you will pay me the five thousand dollars which your family owes tomine. Am I right, _amigo?_"
Ramon, who was listening with only half an ear, was about to make someoff-hand reply, as he had always done before. But suddenly a strange,stirring idea flashed through his brain. Could it be? Could that be whatArchulera meant? He glanced at the man. Archulera was watching him withbright black eyes--cunning, feral--the eyes of a primitive fighting man,eyes that had never flinched at dealing death.
Ramon knew suddenly that his idea was right. Blood pounded in his templesand a red mist of excitement swam before his eyes.
"Yes!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "Yes! When my uncle is dead Iwill pay you the five thousand dollars which the estate owes you!"
The old man studied him, showing no trace of excitement save for thebrightness of his eyes.
"You swear this?" he demanded.
Ramon stood tall, his head lifted, his eyes bright.
"Yes; I swear it," he replied, more quietly now. "I swear it on my honouras a Delcasar!"
The Blood of the Conquerors Page 11