Going Some

by Rex Beach

  CHAPTER X

  "_Buenos dias, Senor._" Carara bowed politely to Speed.

  "Good-morning again," said Wally.

  Turning to the trainer, Carara eyed him from top to toe, removedhis cigarette, and flipped the ashes daintily from it; then,smiling disdainfully, said:

  "_Buenos dias, Senor Fat!_"

  Glass started. "You talkin' to me?"

  "Yes." Carara leaned languidly against the wall, took a matchfrom his pocket, and dextrously struck it between the nails ofhis thumb and finger. He breathed his lungs full of smoke andexhaled it through his nose. "I would have spik to you biffore,but the Senor Fat is"--he shrugged his shoulders--"frighten' sobad he will not understan'. So--I come back."

  "Who's scared?" said Glass, gruffly.

  Carara turned his palm outward, in gentle apology.

  "You been talk' a gret deal to my Senorita--to Mariedetta, eh?"

  "Oh, the Cuban Queen!" Glass winked openly at Speed. "Sure! Islip her a laugh now and then."

  "She is not _Cubana_, she is _Mexicana_," said Carara,politely.

  "Well, what d'you think of that! I thought she was a Cuban."Glass began to chuckle.

  "Senor Fat," broke in the Mexican, sharply, while Larry winced atthe distasteful appellation, "she is _my_ Senorita!"

  "Is she? Well, I can't help it if she falls for me." The speakercast an appreciative glance at his employer. "And you can cut outthat 'Senor Fat,' because it don't go--" Then he gasped, forCarara slowly drew from inside his shirt a long, thin-bladedknife bearing marks of recent grinding, and his black eyessnapped. His face had become suddenly convulsed, while his voicerang with the tone of chilled metal. Glass retreated a step, ashudder ran through him, and his eyes riveted themselves upon theweapon with horrified intensity.

  "Listen, Pig! If you spik to her again, I will cut you." The gazeof the Mexican pierced his victim. "I will not keel you, I willjust--cut you!"

  Speed, who had sat in open-mouthed amazement during the scene,pinched himself. Like Larry, he could not remove his gaze fromthe swarthy man. He pulled himself together with an effort,however, undertaking to divert the present trend of theconversation.

  "W--where will you cut him?" he asked, pleasantly, more to makeconversation than from any lingering question as to the preciselocation.

  "Here." Carara turned the blade against himself, and traced across upon his front, whereupon the trainer gurgled and laidprotecting hands upon his protruding abdomen. "You spik Spanish?""No." Glass shook his head.

  "But you understan' w'at I try to say?"

  "Yes--oh yes--I'm hep all right."

  "And the Senor Fat will r-r-re-member?"

  "Sure!" Glass sighed miserably, and tearing his eyes away fromthe glittering blade, rolled them toward his employer. "I don'twant her! Mr. Speed knows I don't want her!"

  Carara bowed. "And the Fat Senor will not spik wit' her again?"

  "No!"

  "_Gracias, Senor!_ I thank you!"

  "You're welcome!" agreed the New Yorker, with repressed feeling.

  "_Adios! Adios,_ Senor Speed!"

  "Good-bye!" exclaimed the two in chorus.

  Carara returned the knife to its hiding-place, swept the floorgracefully with his sombrero, then placing the spangled head-piece at an exact angle upon his raven locks, lounged out, hissilver spurs tinkling in the silence.

  Glass took a deep breath.

  "He doesn't mean to kill you--just cut you," said Speed. "I gotit," declared the other, fervently. Again he laid repressinghands upon his bulging front and looked down at it tenderly."They've all got it in for my pad, haven't they?"

  "I told you to keep away from that girl."

  "Humph!" Glass spoke with soulful conviction. "Take it from me,Bo, I'll walk around her as if she was a lake. Who'd ever thinkthat chorus-man was a killer?"

  "Surely you don't care for her seriously?"

  "Not now. I--I love my Cuban, but"--he quivered apprehensively--"I'll bet that rummy packs a 'shiv' in every pocket."

  From outside the bunk-house came the low, musical notes of aquail, and Glass puckered his lips to answer, then grew pale."That's her," he declared, in a panic. "I've got a date withher."

  "Are you going to keep it?"

  "Not for a nose-bag full of gold nuggets! Take a look, Wally, andsee what she's doing."

  Speed did as directed. "She's waiting."

  "Let her wait," breathed the trainer.

  "Here comes Stover and Willie."

  "More bad news." Glass unrolled his prayer-rug, and stepped uponit hastily. "Say, what's that word? Quick! You know! Thepassword. Quick!"

  "Allah!"

  "That's her!" The fat man began to mumble thickly. It was plainthat his spirit was utterly broken.

  But this call was prompted purely by solicitude, it seemed.Willie had little to say, and Stover, ignoring all mention of theearlier encounter he had witnessed, exclaimed:

  "There's been some queer goin's-on 'round here, Mr. Speed. Haveyou noticed 'em?"

  "No. What sort?"

  "Well, the other mornin' I discovered some tracks through one ofMiss Jean's flower-beds."

  "Tracks!"

  "Sure! Strange tracks. Man's tracks."

  "What does that signify?"

  "We ain't altogether certain. Carara says he seen a strangerhangin' around night before last, and jest now we found where ahoss had been picketed out in the ravine. Looks like he'd stoodthere more'n once."

  "Why, this is decidedly mysterious."

  "We figured we'd ought to tell you."

  "It has nothing to do with me."

  "I ain't sure. It looks to us like it's somebody from theCentipede. They're equal to any devilment."

  Speed showed an utter lack of comprehension, so Willie explained.

  "Understand, we've made this race pay or play. Mebbe they aim tocripple you."

  "Me!" Speed started. "Good Heavens!"

  "Oh, they'd do it quick enough! I wouldn't put it past 'em todrop a .45 through your winder if it could be done safe."

  "Shoot me, you mean?"

  "Allah!" said Glass, devoutly from his corner.

  Stover and Willie nodded. "If I was you, I'd keep the lampbetween me and the winder every night."

  "Why, this is abominable!" exclaimed the young college man,stiffly. "I--I can't stand for this, it's getting too serious."

  "There ain't nothin' to fear," said Willie, soothingly."Remember, I told you at the start that we'd see there wasn't nocrooked work done. Well, I'm goin' to ride herd on you, constant,Mr. Speed." He smiled in a manner to reassure. "If there's anyshootin' comes off, I'll be in on it."

  "S--say, what's to prevent us being murdered when we're out for arun?" queried Glass.

  "Me!" declared the little man. "I'll saddle my bronc' an' lopealong with you. We'll keep to the open country."

  Instantly Speed saw the direful consequences of such a procedure,and summoned his courage to say: "No. It's very kind of you, butI shall give up training."

  "_What!_"

  "I mean training on the road. I--I'll run indoors."

  "Not a bit like it," declared Stover. "You'll get your daily runif we have to lay off all the punchers on the place and put 'emon as a body-guard."

  "But I don't want a body-guard!" cried the athlete desperately.

  "We can't let you get hurt. You're worth too much to us."

  "Larry and I will take a chance."

  "Not for mine!" firmly declared the trainer. "I don't need nomineral in my system. I'm for the house."

  "Then I shall run alone."

  "You're game," said Willie admiringly, and his auditor breathedeasier, "but we can't allow it."

  "I--I'd rather risk my life than put you to so much trouble."

  "It's only a pleasure."

  "Nevertheless, I can't allow it. I'll run alone, if they kill mefor it."

  "Oh, they won't try to _kill_ you. They'll probably shootyou in the legs. That's just as good, and it's a heap easier toget away wit
h."

  Speed felt his knee-caps twitching.

  "I've got it!" said he at last. "I'll run at night!"

  Stover hesitated thoughtfully. "I don't reckon you could doyourself justice that-away, but you might do your trainin' atdaylight. The Centipede goes to work the same time we do, and thechances is your assassin won't miss his breakfast."

  "Good! I--I'll do that!"

  "I sure admire your courage, but if you see anything suspicious,let us know. We'll git 'em," said Willie.

  "Thank you."

  The two men went out, whereupon Glass chattered:

  "W--what did I tell you? It's worse'n suicide to stick aroundthis farm. I'm going to blow."

  "Where are you going?"

  "New York. Let's beat it!"

  "Never!" exclaimed the college man, stubbornly. We'll hear fromCovington before long. Besides, I can't leave until I get somemoney from home."

  "Let's walk."

  "Don't be a fool!"

  "Then I've got to have a drink." Glass started for the living-quarters, but at the door ducked quickly out of sight.

  "She's there!" he whispered tragically. "She seen me, too!"

  Mariedetta was squatting in the shade opposite, her eyes fixedstolidly upon the training-quarters.

  "Then you've got to lay low till she gives up," declared Wally."We're in trouble enough as it is."

  For nearly an hour the partners discussed the situation while theMexican maid retained her position; then, when Glass was on theverge of making a desperate sally, Cloudy entered silently.Although this had been an unhappy morning for the trainer, hereat least was one person of whom he had no fear, and his naturaloptimism being again to the fore, he greeted the Indian lightly.

  "Well, how's the weather, Cloudy?"

  "Mr. Cloudy to you," said the other. Both Glass and his protegestared. It was the first word the Indian had uttered since theirarrival. Lawrence winked at his companion.

  "All right, if you like it better. How's the weather, MisterCloudy?" He snickered at his own joke, whereupon the aborigineturned upon him slowly, and said, in perfect English:

  "Your humor is misplaced with me. Don't forget, Mr. Glass, thatthe one Yale football team you trained, I dropped a goal on fromthe forty-five-yard line."

  Glass allowed his mouth to open in amazement. The day was repletewith surprises.

  "'96!" he said, while the light of understanding came over him."You're Cloudy-but-the-Sun-Shines?"

  "Yes--Carlisle." Cloudy threw back his head, and pointed withdignity to the flag of his Alma Mater hanging upon the wall.

  "By Jove, I remember that!" exclaimed Speed.

  "So will Yale so long as she lives," predicted the Indian,grimly. "You crippled me in the second half"--he stirred hiswithered leg--"but I dropped it on you; and--I have notforgotten." He ground the last sentence between his teeth.

  "See here, Bo--Mr. Cloudy. You don't blame us for that?" Cloudygrunted, and threw a yellow envelope on the floor at Speed'sfeet. "There is something for you," said he, while his lipscurled. He turned, and limped silently to the door.

  "And I tried to kid him!" breathed Glass with disgust, when thevisitor had gone. "I ain't been in right since Garfield wasshot."

  "It's a telegram from Covington!" cried Speed, tearing open themessage. "At last!"

  "Thank the Lord!" Glass started forward eagerly. "When'll he behere? Quick!" Then he paused. J. Wallingford Speed had gonedeathly pale, and was reeling slightly. "What's wrong?"

  The college man made uncertainly for his bed, murmuringincoherently:

  "I--I'm sick! I'm sick, Larry!" He fell limply at full length,and groaned, "Call the race off!"

  Glass snatched the missive from his employer's nerveless fingers,and read, with bulging eyes, as follows:

  "J. WALLINGFORD SPEED, _Flying Heart Ranch, Kidder, NewMexico:_

  "Don't tip off. Am in jail Omaha. Looks like ten days.

  "CULVER COVINGTON."

  The trainer uttered a cry like that of a wounded animal.

  "Call it off, Larry," moaned the Hope of the Flying Heart. "I'vebeen poisoned!"

  "Poisoned, eh?" said the fat man, tremulously. "Poisoned!_Nix!_ Not with me!" He walked firmly across the room, flungback the lid of Speed's athletic trunk, and began to paw throughit feverishly. One after another he selected three heavysweaters, then laid strong hands upon his protege and jerked himto his feet. "Sick, eh? Here, get into these!"

  "What do you mean, Lawrence?" inquired his victim.

  "If you get sick, I die." Glass opened the first sweater, andhalf-smothered his protege with it. "Hurry up! You're going intotraining!"