CHAPTER IX.
FIDDLERS THREE
Black looks passed among the men as the duplicity of Schwandorf layplain before their eyes. Tim growled. Jose hissed curses. The coronelwhirled to him.
"Jose! What was his object in trying to destroy you and your crew? Youhave been his man. You know much about him. He wanted to stop yourmouth, yes? Dead men tell no tales."
The _puntero's_ eyes glittered. For a moment the others thought he wasabout to reveal important secrets. Then his face changed.
"I know no reason why we should be killed," he declared.
"I do not believe you," the coronel declared, bluntly.
Jose shrugged, calmly drank the coronel's wine, lighted the coronel'scigar, leaned back in the coronel's chair, and eyed the coronel withimperturbable insolence.
"See here, Jose," demanded McKay, "you've had something up your sleeveall along. Now come clean! What is it?"
Jose puffed airily at the cigar, saying nothing.
"What orders did Schwandorf give you?"
This time the reply came readily enough.
"To take you twenty-four days up the river and put you ashore. Toprevent any trouble before that time."
"Ah! And after that?"
"Nothing. At least, nothing to me. What may have been said to the othermen I do not know. Schwandorf came to me last, after he had picked allthe others."
"And what do you know about Schwandorf?"
"What is between me and Schwandorf will be settled between me andSchwandorf. My duty to you senores lies only in handling the crew. Nowthat there is no crew my duty ends. Also, Capitan, I would like my paynow."
"You quit?"
"Why not? I have done my best. I can do no more. I am crippled. I am ofno further use to you. Give me my pay, a little food, a small canoe, andI go."
"It is possible, Senhor Jose," spoke the coronel, with ironicpoliteness, "that you may not go so soon. You have killed two menrecently. You refuse to reveal some things which should be known aboutthe German. Perhaps the law--"
Jose burst into a jeering laugh.
"Law? You speak of law? There is no law up the river but the law of thegun and the knife. And if there were, senor, what then? I killed in afair fight. I killed men who would do murder. I killed on the west bankof the river--Peru. Neither you nor any other Brazilian can lay hand onme. And though I now have only one good arm, it will not be well foranyone to try to hold me. My knife and my right hand still are ready."
"By cripes! the lad's right!" Tim blurted, impulsively. "And I'll tellthe world I'm for him. He's got a right to keep his mouth shut if hewants to. He don't owe us nothin'. Mebbe he's got somethin' up hissleeve, at that; but he stuck with us in the pinch, and--"
"And we'll give him a square deal, of course," Knowlton cut in. "Jose,your own wages to this point, at a dollar a day, are eighteen dollars.The wages of the five other men to the place where they--quit--wouldaggregate seventy-five dollars. Grand total, ninety-three. The otherschose to take their pay in lead instead of gold, so their account isclosed. Therefore I suggest that their pay go to you as _puntero_,_popero_, and good sport. What say, Rod?"
"Make it a hundred flat," McKay agreed.
"Right. A hundred in gold. Satisfy you, Jose?"
"Indeed yes, senor. I did not expect such generosity."
"That's all right, then. We'll fix you up before we move on, and--Say!Are you in Schwandorf's pay, too?"
Jose hesitated. Then he replied:
"Since you mention it, I will admit that _el Aleman_ offered me certaininducements to make this journey. I now see that he had no intention ofmeeting his promises. But you can leave it to me to collect from himwhatever may be due."
Even the coronel nodded at this. The gleam in the Peruvian's eyespresaged unpleasantness for Schwandorf.
"You gentlemen, of course, will not attempt to continue your journey forthe present," the coronel suggested. "You are fatigued and I shallgreatly appreciate the pleasure of your companionship. New arrangementsalso will be necessary in the matter of a boat and men."
"We've been wondering about getting another boat and a new crew,"Knowlton said, frankly. "The canoe we have is too big for three men tohandle, and I'll admit we're tired. Jose, too, is in no shape to travelyet--"
"Jose, of course, is my guest also," the old gentleman interrupted. "Thequestion of new men can be solved. But there is time for everything, andnow is the time for all of you to rest. As our proverb has it, '_Devagarse vae ao longe_'--he goes far who goes slowly."
McKay arose, glass in hand.
"To our host," he bowed. The toast was drunk standing. Whereafter thehost tapped the bell twice and 'Tonio reappeared with a tray of freshglasses. A toast to the United States by the coronel followed, and assoon as the black man arrived with a third round the Republic of Brazilwas pledged. Then the coronel directed the servant:
"'Tonio, if Pedro and Lourenco are outside, ask them to move thebelongings of the gentlemen from the canoe. And make ready rooms for theguests."
'Tonio disappeared down the ladder. The coronel raised the violin,tendered it to the others, accepted their pleas to play it himself, andfor the next half hour acquitted himself with no mean ability. Snatchesof long-forgotten operas and improvisations of his own flowed from thestrings in smooth harmony, hinting at bygone years amid far differentsurroundings for which his soul now hungered and to which he wouldreturn. Pedro and Lourenco, transporting the equipment, passed in andout soft-footed and almost unnoticed. At length the player, with adeprecatory smile and a half apology for "boring his guests," extendedthe instrument again toward the visitors. And McKay, silent McKay, tookit.
Sweet and low, out welled the haunting melody of "Annie Laurie." Tim,who had listened with casual interest to the coronel's music, nowgrinned happily. And when the plaintive Scotch song became "KathleenMavourneen" he closed his eyes and lay back in pure enjoyment. "TheRiver Shannon" flowed into "The Suwanee River," and this in turn blendedinto other heart-tugging airs of Dixieland. When the last strain diedand the captain reached for his half-smoked cigar the room was silentfor minutes.
Then, to the astonishment of all, Jose spoke:
"Senores, there was a time when I, too, could draw music from theviolin. If I may--" His eyes rested longingly on the instrument.
"_Certamente_, if you can use the arm," the coronel acquiesced. With alittle difficulty Jose drew his arm from the sling, balanced his leftelbow on the chair arm, and poised the violin. A half smile showed inthe eyes of the coronel as he glanced at his guests. He, and they aswell, expected a discordant, uncouth attempt to scrape out some obsceneditty of the frontier.
But as Jose, after jockeying a bit, began drifting the bow across thestrings, the suppressed smiles faded and eyes opened. Here was a manwho, as he said, once could play. And he wasted no time on airs composedby others and known to half the world. Under his touch the mellow woodbegan to talk, and in the minds of the listeners grew pictures.
City streets, blank-walled houses, patios, the rattle of the hoofs ofburros over cobbles, the shuffle of human feet, the toll of bells from aconvent tower. Gay little bits of music, laughter, flashing eyes, avoluptuous love song repeated over and over. A sudden wild outbreak,fighting men, shots, the clash of steel--again a tolling bell and arequiem for the dead. A horse galloping in the night. Mountain windscrooning mournfully, rising to the scream of tempest and the crash ofthunder. Dreary uplands, the hiss of rain, the sough of drifting snow,the patient plod of a mule along a perilous trail. And then the jungle:its discordant uproar, its hammering of frogs, its hoots and howls, thedismal swash of flood waters. A monotonous ebb and flow of life,punctuated by sudden flares of fight. Then a long, mournful wail--andsilence.
His bow still on the strings, Jose sat for a minute like a stone image,his eyes straight ahead, his pale face drawn, his red kerchief glowingdully in the semishadow like a cap of blood. For once his face was emptyof all insolence, changed by a pathetic wistfulness that made it tragic.The
n, wordless, he lowered the violin, held it out to the coronel,fumbled absently at his sling, and slowly incased his wounded arm. Whenhe looked up his old mocking expression had come back and he once morelooked the reckless buccaneer.
For a time no one spoke. Each felt that he had glimpsed something ofthis man's past; felt, too, that he who now was a bloody-handed bordererhad once been a _caballero_, moving in a much higher circle. Certainlyhe could not play like this unless he had been of the upper class in hisyouth. The coronel's face was thoughtful as he took back the violin.When at length he began to talk, however, it was on a topic as remote aspossible from music and present personalities--the reconstruction ofEurope as the result of the World War.
With this and kindred subjects, aided by the attentive ministrations of'Tonio, the afternoon passed swiftly. Dinner proved a feast, the _piecede resistance_ being tender, well-cooked meat which the Americans tookfor roast beef, but which really was roast tapir. More cigars, coupledwith the fatigue of the past two days of paddling, eventually caused thevisitors to seek their rooms, where McKay and Knowlton paired off andTim took Jose as his "bunkie."
When Tim awoke the next morning he found himself deserted.
To Knowlton, who drew from the small gold-chest the hundred dollarsallotted to Jose and handed it to him before redressing his wound, the_puntero_ quietly revealed his intention to go before sunrise.
"Say nothing, senor," he requested. "You need know nothing of it, if youlike. I am here to-night--I am gone to-morrow--that is all. I am of nofurther use to you, I am unwelcome in this house of Nunes, and I go. Oh,have no fear for me! I have my gun, my knife, and my good right arm, andI can take care of myself very well. No doubt the coronel will beastonished to find that on leaving to-night I have neither cut anyone'sthroat nor stolen anything--ha! I have a black name on this river, andit is well earned, perhaps. Yet few men are as bad as those who dislikethem think they are. I may borrow a small canoe, but any Indian would dothe same. An unoccupied canoe is any man's property.
"Before our ways part, senor, let me say that as Jose Martinez neverforgets his enemies, so he never forgets friends. Where some men wouldhave turned me loose like a sick dog with my eighteen dollars, you andSenor McKay give me a hundred. And far more than that, you saved my lifeat a time when many men would have said, 'Bah! let the bloody one die!He is nothing but scum of the border and leader of that murdering crew.'You had only to let me lie a few minutes longer and you would be rid ofme. No, Jose does not forget.
"That is all, except--if you will, in parting, take the hand of a manknown as a killer and other things--"
Knowlton gripped that hand with swift heartiness. He would haveprotested against such a departure, but the other's steady gazebetokened inflexible purpose. So he merely said:
"Then good luck, old chap! And if you meet Schwandorf give him ouraffectionate regards."
"_Si_, senor," was the sardonic answer. "I will do that thing. And hereis something that may be of interest to you. I happen to know thatbefore we left Remate de Males a swift one-man canoe left Nazareth, andthat the man in it was an Indian who is in the German's control. It wentupstream while we were loading your supplies, and it has not returned.By this time it must be many hours above this place. I do not know whatmessage that Indian carries, nor where he goes. But he is a short man,and his left leg is crooked. If you meet such a one make him talk.Good-by, senor."
Just how and when the _puntero_ cat-footed his way out that night noneever knew but himself. But before the next dawn he had vanished from theBrazilian shore.
The Pathless Trail Page 9