XIII
The President's travelling carriage was a double-seated diligencecovered with heavy hoods and with places on the box for two men. Onlyone of the coachmen, the same man who had driven the State carriagefrom the review, had remained at the stables. As he knew the roads toLos Bocos, Clay ordered him up to the driver's seat, and MacWilliamsclimbed into the place beside him after first storing three riflesunder the lap-robe.
Hope pulled open the leather curtains of the carriage and found MadameAlvarez where the men had laid her upon the cushions, weak andhysterical. The girl crept in beside her, and lifting her in her arms,rested the older woman's head against her shoulder, and soothed andcomforted her with tenderness and sympathy.
Clay stopped with his foot in the stirrup and looked up anxiously atLangham who was already in the saddle.
"Is there no possible way of getting Hope out of this and back to thePalms?" he asked.
"No, it's too late. This is the only way now." Hope opened theleather curtains and looking out shook her head impatiently at Clay."I wouldn't go now if there were another way," she said. "I couldn'tleave her like this."
"You're delaying the game, Clay," cried Langham, warningly, as he stuckhis spurs into his pony's side.
The people in the diligence lurched forward as the horses felt the lashof the whip and strained against the harness, and then plunged ahead ata gallop on their long race to the sea. As they sped through thegardens, the stables and the trees hid them from the sight of those inthe palace, and the turf, upon which the driver had turned the horsesfor greater safety, deadened the sound of their flight.
They found the gates of the botanical gardens already opened, and Clay,in the street outside, beckoning them on. Without waiting for theothers the two outriders galloped ahead to the first cross street,looked up and down its length, and then, in evident concern at whatthey saw in the distance, motioned the driver to greater speed, andcrossing the street signalled him to follow them. At the next cornerClay flung himself off his pony, and throwing the bridle to Langham,ran ahead into the cross street on foot, and after a quick glancepointed down its length away from the heart of the city to themountains.
The driver turned as Clay directed him, and when the man found that hisface was fairly set toward the goal he lashed his horses recklesslythrough the narrow street, so that the murmur of the mob behind themgrew perceptibly fainter at each leap forward.
The noise of the galloping hoofs brought women and children to thebarred windows of the houses, but no men stepped into the road to stoptheir progress, and those few they met running in the direction of thepalace hastened to get out of their way, and stood with their backspressed against the walls of the narrow thoroughfare looking after themwith wonder.
Even those who suspected their errand were helpless to detain them, forsooner than they could raise the hue and cry or formulate a plan ofaction, the carriage had passed and was disappearing in the distance,rocking from wheel to wheel like a ship in a gale. Two men who were sobold as to start to follow, stopped abruptly when they saw theoutriders draw rein and turn in their saddles as though to await theircoming.
Clay's mind was torn with doubts, and his nerves were drawn taut likethe strings of a violin. Personal danger exhilarated him, but thischance of harm to others who were helpless, except for him, depressedhis spirit with anxiety. He experienced in his own mind all thenervous fears of a thief who sees an officer in every passing citizen,and at one moment he warned the driver to move more circumspectly, andso avert suspicion, and the next urged him into more desperate burstsof speed. In his fancy every cross street threatened an ambush, and ashe cantered now before and now behind the carriage, he wished that hewas a multitude of men who could encompass it entirely and hide it.
But the solid streets soon gave way to open places, and low mud cabins,where the horses' hoofs beat on a sun-baked road, and where theinhabitants sat lazily before the door in the fading light, with noknowledge of the changes that the day had wrought in the city, and withonly a moment's curious interest in the hooded carriage, and the grim,white-faced foreigners who guarded it.
Clay turned his pony into a trot at Langham's side. His face was paleand drawn.
As the danger of immediate pursuit and capture grew less, the carriagehad slackened its pace, and for some minutes the outriders galloped ontogether side by side in silence. But the same thought was in the mindof each, and when Langham spoke it was as though he were continuingwhere he had but just been interrupted.
He laid his hand gently on Clay's arm. He did not turn his face towardhim, and his eyes were still peering into the shadows before them."Tell me?" he asked.
"He was coming up the stairs," Clay answered. He spoke in so low avoice that Langham had to lean from his saddle to hear him. "They wereclose behind; but when they saw her they stopped and refused to gofarther. I called to him to come away, but he would not understand.They killed him before he really understood what they meant to do. Hewas dead almost before I reached him. He died in my arms." There wasa long pause. "I wonder if he knows that?" Clay said.
Langham sat erect in the saddle again and drew a short breath. "I wishhe could have known how he helped me," he whispered, "how much justknowing him helped me."
Clay bowed his head to the boy as though he were thanking him. "His wasthe gentlest soul I ever knew," he said.
"That's what I wanted to say," Langham answered. "We will let that behis epitaph," and touching his spur to his horse he galloped on aheadand left Clay riding alone.
Langham had proceeded for nearly a mile when he saw the forest openingbefore them, and at the sight he gave a shout of relief, but almost atthe same instant he pulled his pony back on his haunches and whirlinghim about, sprang back to the carriage with a cry of warning.
"There are soldiers ahead of us," he cried. "Did you know it?" hedemanded of the driver. "Did you lie to me? Turn back."
"He can't turn back," MacWilliams answered. "They have seen us. Theyare only the custom officers at the city limits. They know nothing.Go on." He reached forward and catching the reins dragged the horsesdown into a walk. Then he handed the reins back to the driver with ashake of the head.
"If you know these roads as well as you say you do, you want to keep usout of the way of soldiers," he said. "If we fall into a trap you'llbe the first man shot on either side."
A sentry strolled lazily out into the road dragging his gun after himby the bayonet, and raised his hand for them to halt. His captainfollowed him from the post-house throwing away a cigarette as he came,and saluted MacWilliams on the box and bowed to the two riders in thebackground. In his right hand he held one of the long iron rods withwhich the collectors of the city's taxes were wont to pierce thebundles and packs, and even the carriage cushions of those who enteredthe city limits from the coast, and who might be suspected of smuggling.
"Whose carriage is this, and where is it going?" he asked.
As the speed of the diligence slackened, Hope put her head out of thecurtains, and as she surveyed the soldier with apparent surprise, sheturned to her brother.
"What does this mean?" she asked. "What are we waiting for?"
"We are going to the Hacienda of Senor Palacio," MacWilliams said, inanswer to the officer. "The driver thinks that this is the road, but Isay we should have taken the one to the right."
"No, this is the road to Senor Palacio's plantation," the officeranswered, "but you cannot leave the city without a pass signed byGeneral Mendoza. That is the order we received this morning. Have yousuch a pass?"
"Certainly not," Clay answered, warmly. "This is the carriage of anAmerican, the president of the mines. His daughters are inside and ontheir way to visit the residence of Senor Palacio. They areforeigners--Americans. We are all foreigners, and we have a perfectright to leave the city when we choose. You can only stop us when weenter it."
The officer looked uncertainly from Clay to Hope and up at the driveron the box. His
eyes fell upon the heavy brass mountings of theharness. They bore the arms of Olancho. He wheeled sharply and calledto his men inside the post-house, and they stepped out from the verandaand spread themselves leisurely across the road.
"Ride him down, Clay," Langham muttered, in a whisper. The officer didnot understand the words, but he saw Clay gather the reins tighter inhis hands and he stepped back quickly to the safety of the porch, andfrom that ground of vantage smiled pleasantly.
"Pardon," he said, "there is no need for blows when one is rich enoughto pay. A little something for myself and a drink for my bravefellows, and you can go where you please."
"Damned brigands," growled Langham, savagely.
"Not at all," Clay answered. "He is an officer and a gentleman. Ihave no money with me," he said, in Spanish, addressing the officer,"but between caballeros a word of honor is sufficient. I shall bereturning this way to-morrow morning, and I will bring a few hundredsols from Senor Palacio for you and your men; but if we are followedyou will get nothing, and you must have forgotten in the mean time thatyou have seen us pass."
There was a murmur inside the carriage, and Hope's face disappearedfrom between the curtains to reappear again almost immediately. Shebeckoned to the officer with her hand, and the men saw that she heldbetween her thumb and little finger a diamond ring of size andbrilliancy. She moved it so that it flashed in the light of the guardlantern above the post-house.
"My sister tells me you shall be given this tomorrow morning," Hopesaid, "if we are not followed."
The man's eyes laughed with pleasure. He swept his sombrero to theground.
"I am your servant, Senorita," he said. "Gentlemen," he cried, gayly,turning to Clay, "if you wish it, I will accompany you with my men.Yes, I will leave word that I have gone in the sudden pursuit ofsmugglers; or I will remain here as you wish, and send those who mayfollow back again."
"You are most gracious, sir," said Clay. "It is always a pleasure tomeet with a gentleman and a philosopher. We prefer to travel withoutan escort, and remember, you have seen nothing and heard nothing." Heleaned from the saddle, and touched the officer on the breast. "Thatring is worth a king's ransom."
"Or a president's," muttered the man, smiling. "Let the Americanladies pass," he commanded.
The soldiers scattered as the whip fell, and the horses once moreleaped forward, and as the carriage entered the forest, Clay lookedback and saw the officer exhaling the smoke of a fresh cigarette, withthe satisfaction of one who enjoys a clean conscience and a sense ofduty well performed.
The road through the forest was narrow and uneven, and as the horsesfell into a trot the men on horseback closed up together behind thecarriage.
"Do you think that road-agent will keep his word?" Langham asked.
"Yes; he has nothing to win by telling the truth," Clay answered. "Hecan say he saw a party of foreigners, Americans, driving in thedirection of Palacio's coffee plantation. That lets him out, and inthe morning he knows he can levy on us for the gate money. I am not somuch afraid of being overtaken as I am that King may make a mistake andnot get to Bocos on time. We ought to reach there, if the carriageholds together, by eleven. King should be there by eight o'clock, andthe yacht ought to make the run to Truxillo in three hours. But weshall not be able to get back to the city before five to-morrowmorning. I suppose your family will be wild about Hope. We didn'tknow where she was when we sent the groom back to King."
"Do you think that driver is taking us the right way?" Langham asked,after a pause.
"He'd better. He knows it well enough. He was through the lastrevolution, and carried messages from Los Bocos to the city on foot fortwo months. He has covered every trail on the way, and if he goeswrong he knows what will happen to him."
"And Los Bocos--it is a village, isn't it, and the landing must be insight of the Custom-house?"
"The village lies some distance back from the shore, and the only houseon the beach is the Custom-house itself; but every one will be asleepby the time we get there, and it will take us only a minute to hand herinto the launch. If there should be a guard there, King will havefixed them one way or another by the time we arrive. Anyhow, there isno need of looking for trouble that far ahead. There is enough toworry about in between. We haven't got there yet."
The moon rose grandly a few minutes later, and flooded the forest withlight so that the open places were as clear as day. It threw strangeshadows across the trail, and turned the rocks and fallen trees intofigures of men crouching or standing upright with uplifted arms. Theywere so like to them that Clay and Langham flung their carbines totheir shoulders again and again, and pointed them at some black objectthat turned as they advanced into wood or stone. From the forest theycame to little streams and broad shallow rivers where the rocks in thefording places churned the water into white masses of foam, and thehorses kicked up showers of spray as they made their way, slipping andstumbling, against the current. It was a silent pilgrim age, and neverfor a moment did the strain slacken or the men draw rein. Sometimes,as they hurried across a broad tableland, or skirted the edge of aprecipice and looked down hundreds of feet below at the shining watersthey had just forded, or up at the rocky points of the mountains beforethem, the beauty of the night overcame them and made them forget thesignificance of their journey.
They were not always alone, for they passed at intervals throughsleeping villages of mud huts with thatched roofs, where the dogs ranyelping out to bark at them, and where the pine-knots, blazing on theclay ovens, burned cheerily in the moonlight. In the low lands wherethe fever lay, the mist rose above the level of their heads andenshrouded them in a curtain of fog, and the dew fell heavily,penetrating their clothing and chilling their heated bodies so that thesweating horses moved in a lather of steam.
They had settled down into a steady gallop now, and ten or fifteenmiles had been left behind them.
"We are making excellent time," said Clay. "The village of San Lorenzoshould lie beyond that ridge." He drove up beside the driver andpointed with his whip. "Is not that San Lorenzo?" he asked.
"Yes, senor," the man answered, "but I mean to drive around it by theold wagon trail. It is a large town, and people may be awake. Youwill be able to see it from the top of the next hill."
The cavalcade stopped at the summit of the ridge and the men lookeddown into the silent village. It was like the others they had passed,with a few houses built round a square of grass that could hardly berecognized as a plaza, except for the church on its one side, and thehuge wooden cross planted in its centre. From the top of the hill theycould see that the greater number of the houses were in darkness, butin a large building of two stories lights were shining from everywindow.
"That is the comandancia," said the driver, shaking his head. "Theyare still awake. It is a telegraph station."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed MacWilliams. "We forgot the telegraph. Theymay have sent word to head us off already."
"Nine o'clock is not so very late," said Clay. "It may mean nothing."
"We had better make sure, though," MacWilliams answered, jumping to theground. "Lend me your pony, Ted, and take my place. I'll run in thereand dust around and see what's up. I'll join you on the other side ofthe town after you get back to the main road."
"Wait a minute," said Clay. "What do you mean to do?"
"I can't tell till I get there, but I'll try to find out how much theyknow. Don't you be afraid. I'll run fast enough if there's any signof trouble. And if you come across a telegraph wire, cut it. Themessage may not have gone over yet."
The two women in the carriage had parted the flaps of the hoods andwere trying to hear what was being said, but could not understand, andLangham explained to them that they were about to make a slight detourto avoid San Lorenzo while MacWilliams was going into it toreconnoitre. He asked if they were comfortable, and assured them thatthe greater part of the ride was over, and that there was a good roadfrom San Lorenzo to the sea.
MacWilliams rode down into the village along the main trail, and threwhis reins over a post in front of the comandancia. He mounted boldlyto the second floor of the building and stopped at the head of thestairs, in front of an open door. There were three men in the roombefore him, one an elderly man, whom he rightly guessed was thecomandante, and two younger men who were standing behind a railing andbending over a telegraph instrument on a table. As he stamped into theroom, they looked up and stared at him in surprise; their faces showedthat he had interrupted them at a moment of unusual interest.
MacWilliams saluted the three men civilly, and, according to the nativecustom, apologized for appearing before them in his spurs.
He had been riding from Los Bocos to the capital, he said, and hishorse had gone lame. Could they tell him if there was any one in thevillage from whom he could hire a mule, as he must push on to thecapital that night?
The comandante surveyed him for a moment, as though still disturbed bythe interruption, and then shook his head impatiently. "You can hire amule from one Pulido Paul, at the corner of the plaza," he said. Andas MacWilliams still stood uncertainly, he added, "You say you havecome from Los Bocos. Did you meet any one on your way?"
The two younger men looked up at him anxiously, but before he couldanswer, the instrument began to tick out the signal, and they turnedtheir eyes to it again, and one of them began to take its message downon paper.
The instrument spoke to MacWilliams also, for he was used to sendingtelegrams daily from the office to the mines, and could make it talkfor him in either English or Spanish. So, in his effort to hear whatit might say, he stammered and glanced at it involuntarily, and thecomandante, without suspecting his reason for doing so, turned also andpeered over the shoulder of the man who was receiving the message.Except for the clicking of the instrument, the room was absolutelystill; the three men bent silently over the table, while MacWilliamsstood gazing at the ceiling and turning his hat in his hands. Themessage MacWilliams read from the instrument was this: "They arereported to have left the city by the south, so they are going to Para,or San Pedro, or to Los Bocos. She must be stopped--take an armedforce and guard the roads. If necessary, kill her. She has in thecarriage or hidden on her person, drafts for five million sols. Youwill be held responsible for every one of them. Repeat this message toshow you understand, and relay it to Los Bocos. If you fail--"
MacWilliams could not wait to hear more; he gave a curt nod to the menand started toward the stairs. "Wait," the comandante called after him.
MacWilliams paused with one hand on top of the banisters balancinghimself in readiness for instant flight.
"You have not answered me. Did you meet with any one on your ride herefrom Los Bocos?"
"I met several men on foot, and the mail carrier passed me a league outfrom the coast, and oh, yes, I met a carriage at the cross roads, andthe driver asked me the way of San Pedro Sula."
"A carriage?--yes--and what did you tell him?"
"I told him he was on the road to Los Bocos, and he turned back and--"
"You are sure he turned back?"
"Certainly, sir. I rode behind him for some distance. He turnedfinally to the right into the trail to San Pedro Sula."
The man flung himself across the railing.
"Quick," he commanded, "telegraph to Morales, Comandante San PedroSula--"
He had turned his back on MacWilliams, and as the younger man bent overthe instrument, MacWilliams stepped softly down the stairs, andmounting his pony rode slowly off in the direction of the capital. Assoon as he had reached the outskirts of the town, he turned andgalloped round it and then rode fast with his head in air, glancing upat the telegraph wire that sagged from tree-trunk to tree-trunk alongthe trail. At a point where he thought he could dismount in safety andtear down the wire, he came across it dangling from the branches and hegave a shout of relief. He caught the loose end and dragged it freefrom its support, and then laying it across a rock pounded the blade ofhis knife upon it with a stone, until he had hacked off a piece somefifty feet in length. Taking this in his hand he mounted again androde off with it, dragging the wire in the road behind him. He held itup as he rejoined Clay, and laughed triumphantly. "They'll have sometrouble splicing that circuit," he said, "you only half did the work.What wouldn't we give to know all this little piece of copper knows,eh?"
"Do you mean you think they have telegraphed to Los Bocos already?"
"I know that they were telegraphing to San Pedro Sula as I left and toall the coast towns. But whether you cut this down before or after iswhat I should like to know."
"We shall probably learn that later," said Clay, grimly.
The last three miles of the journey lay over a hard, smooth road, wideenough to allow the carriage and its escort to ride abreast.
It was in such contrast to the tortuous paths they had just followed,that the horses gained a fresh impetus and galloped forward as freelyas though the race had but just begun.
Madame Alvarez stopped the carriage at one place and asked the men tolower the hood at the back that she might feel the fresh air and seeabout her, and when this had been done, the women seated themselveswith their backs to the horses where they could look out at the moonlitroad as it unrolled behind them.
Hope felt selfishly and wickedly happy. The excitement had kept herspirits at the highest point, and the knowledge that Clay was guardingand protecting her was in itself a pleasure. She leaned back on thecushions and put her arm around the older woman's waist, and listenedto the light beat of his pony's hoofs outside, now running ahead, nowscrambling and slipping up some steep place, and again coming to a haltas Langham or MacWilliams called, "Look to the right, behind thosetrees," or "Ahead there! Don't you see what I mean, somethingcrouching?"
She did not know when the false alarms would turn into a genuineattack, but she was confident that when the time came he would takecare of her, and she welcomed the danger because it brought that solacewith it.
Madame Alvarez sat at her side, rigid, silent, and beyond the help ofcomfort. She tortured herself with thoughts of the ambitions she hadheld, and which had been so cruelly mocked that very morning; of thechivalric love that had been hers, of the life even that had been hers,and which had been given up for her so tragically. When she spoke atall, it was to murmur her sorrow that Hope had exposed herself todanger on her poor account, and that her life, as far as she loved it,was at an end. Only once after the men had parted the curtains andasked concerning her comfort with grave solicitude did she give way totears.
"Why are they so good to me?" she moaned. "Why are you so good to me?I am a wicked, vain woman, I have brought a nation to war and I havekilled the only man I ever trusted."
Hope touched her gently with her hand and felt guiltily how selfish sheherself must be not to feel the woman's grief, but she could not. Sheonly saw in it a contrast to her own happiness, a black backgroundbefore which the figure of Clay and his solicitude for her shone out,the only fact in the world that was of value.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the carriage coming to a halt, and asignificant movement upon the part of the men. MacWilliams haddescended from the box-seat and stepping into the carriage took theplace the women had just left.
He had a carbine in his hand, and after he was seated Langham handedhim another which he laid across his knees.
"They thought I was too conspicuous on the box to do any good there,"he explained in a confidential whisper. "In case there is any firingnow, you ladies want to get down on your knees here at my feet, andhide your heads in the cushions. We are entering Los Bocos."
Langham and Clay were riding far in advance, scouting to the right andleft, and the carriage moved noiselessly behind them through the emptystreets. There was no light in any of the windows, and not even a dogbarked, or a cock crowed. The women sat erect, listening for the firstsignal of an attack, each holding the other's hand and looking atMacWilliams, who sat with his thumb o
n the trigger of his carbine,glancing to the right and left and breathing quickly. His eyestwinkled, like those of a little fox terrier. The men dropped back,and drew up on a level with the carriage.
"We are all right, so far," Clay whispered. "The beach slopes downfrom the other side of that line of trees. What is the matter withyou?" he demanded, suddenly, looking up at the driver, "are you afraid?"
"No," the man answered, hurriedly, his voice shaking; "it's the cold."
Langham had galloped on ahead and as he passed through the trees andcame out upon the beach, he saw a broad stretch of moonlit water andthe lights from the yacht shining from a point a quarter of a mile offshore. Among the rocks on the edge of the beach was the "Vesta's"longboat and her crew seated in it or standing about on the beach. Thecarriage had stopped under the protecting shadow of the trees, and heraced back toward it.
"The yacht is here," he cried. "The long-boat is waiting and there isnot a sign of light about the Custom-house. Come on," he cried. "Wehave beaten them after all."
A sailor, who had been acting as lookout on the rocks, sprang to hisfull height, and shouted to the group around the long-boat, and Kingcame up the beach toward them running heavily through the deep sand.
Madame Alvarez stepped down from the carriage, and as Hope handed herher jewel case in silence, the men draped her cloak about hershoulders. She put out her hand to them, and as Clay took it in his,she bent her head quickly and kissed his hand. "You were his friend,"she murmured.
She held Hope in her arms for an instant, and kissed her, and then gaveher hand in turn to Langham and to MacWilliams.
"I do not know whether I shall ever see you again," she said, lookingslowly from one to the other, "but I will pray for you every day, andGod will reward you for saving a worthless life."
As she finished speaking King came up to the group, followed by threeof his men.
"Is Hope with you, is she safe?" he asked.
"Yes, she is with me," Madame Alvarez answered.
"Thank God," King exclaimed, breathlessly. "Then we will start atonce, Madame. Where is she? She must come with us!"
"Of course," Clay-assented, eagerly, "she will be much safer on theyacht."
But Hope protested. "I must get back to father," she said. "The yachtwill not arrive until late to-morrow, and the carriage can take me tohim five hours earlier. The family have worried too long about me asit is, and, besides, I will not leave Ted. I am going back as I came."
"It is most unsafe," King urged.
"On the contrary, it is perfectly safe now," Hope answered. "It was notone of us they wanted."
"You may be right," King said. "They don't know what has happened toyou, and perhaps after all it would be better if you went back thequicker way." He gave his arm to Madame Alvarez and walked with hertoward the shore. As the men surrounded her on every side and movedaway, Clay glanced back at Hope and saw her standing upright in thecarriage looking after them.
"We will be with you in a minute," he called, as though in apology forleaving her for even that brief space. And then the shadow of thetrees shut her and the carriage from his sight. His footsteps made nosound in the soft sand, and except for the whispering of the palms andthe sleepy wash of the waves as they ran up the pebbly beach and sankagain, the place was as peaceful and silent as a deserted island,though the moon made it as light as day.
The long-boat had been drawn up with her stern to the shore, and themen were already in their places, some standing waiting for the orderto shove off, and others seated balancing their oars.
King had arranged to fire a rocket when the launch left the shore, inorder that the captain of the yacht might run in closer to pick themup. As he hurried down the beach, he called to his boatswain to givethe signal, and the man answered that he understood and stooped tolight a match. King had jumped into the stern and lifted MadameAlvarez after him, leaving her late escort standing with uncoveredheads on the beach behind her, when the rocket shot up into the calmwhite air, with a roar and a rush and a sudden flash of color. At thesame instant, as though in answer to its challenge, the woods back ofthem burst into an irregular line of flame, a volley of rifle shotsshattered the silence, and a score of bullets splashed in the water andon the rocks about them.
The boatswain in the bow of the long-boat tossed up his arms andpitched forward between the thwarts.
"Give way," he shouted as he fell.
"Pull," Clay yelled, "pull, all of you."
He threw himself against the stern of the boat, and Langham andMacWilliams clutched its sides, and with their shoulders against it andtheir bodies half sunk in the water, shoved it off, free of the shore.
The shots continued fiercely, and two of the crew cried out and fellback upon the oars of the men behind them.
Madame Alvarez sprang to her feet and stood swaying unsteadily as theboat leaped forward.
"Take me back. Stop, I command you," she cried, "I will not leavethose men. Do you hear?"
King caught her by the waist and dragged her down, but she struggled tofree herself. "I will not leave them to be murdered," she cried. "Youcowards, put me back."
"Hold her, King," Clay shouted. "We're all right. They're not firingat us."
His voice was drowned in the noise of the oars beating in the rowlocks,and the reports of the rifles. The boat disappeared in a mist of sprayand moonlight, and Clay turned and faced about him. Langham andMacWilliams were crouching behind a rock and firing at the flashes inthe woods.
"You can't stay there," Clay cried. "We must get back to Hope."
He ran forward, dodging from side to side and firing as he ran. Heheard shots from the water, and looking back saw that the men in thelongboat had ceased rowing, and were returning the fire from the shore.
"Come back, Hope is all right," her brother called to him. "I haven'tseen a shot within a hundred yards of her yet, they're firing from theCustom-house and below. I think Mac's hit."
"I'm not," MacWilliams's voice answered from behind a rock, "but I'dlike to see something to shoot at."
A hot tremor of rage swept over Clay at the thought of a possibly fataltermination to the night's adventure. He groaned at the mockery ofhaving found his life only to lose it now, when it was more precious tohim than it had ever been, and to lose it in a silly brawl withsemi-savages. He cursed himself impotently and rebelliously for asenseless fool.
"Keep back, can't you?" he heard Langham calling to him from the shore."You're only drawing the fire toward Hope. She's got away by now. Shehad both the horses."
Langham and MacWilliams started forward to Clay's side, but the instantthey left the shadow of the rock, the bullets threw up the sand attheir feet and they stopped irresolutely. The moon showed the threemen outlined against the white sand of the beach as clearly as though asearchlight had been turned upon them, even while its shadows shelteredand protected their assailants. At their backs the open sea cut offretreat, and the line of fire in front held them in check. They wereas helpless as chessmen upon a board.
"I'm not going to stand still to be shot at," cried MacWilliams."Let's hide or let's run. This isn't doing anybody any good." But noone moved. They could hear the singing of the bullets as they passedthem whining in the air like a banjo-string that is being tightened,and they knew they were in equal danger from those who were firing fromthe boat.
"They're shooting better," said MacWilliams. "They'll reach us in aminute."
"They've reached me already, I think," Langham answered, withsuppressed satisfaction, "in the shoulder. It's nothing." Hisunconcern was quite sincere; to a young man who had galloped throughtwo long halves of a football match on a strained tendon, a scratchedshoulder was not important, except as an unsought honor.
But it was of the most importance to MacWilliams. He raised his voiceagainst the men in the woods in impotent fury. "Come out, you cowards,where we can see you," he cried. "Come out where I can shoot yourblack heads off."
&n
bsp; Clay had fired the last cartridge in his rifle, and throwing it awaydrew his revolver.
"We must either swim or hide," he said. "Put your heads down and run."
But as he spoke, they saw the carriage plunging out of the shadow ofthe woods and the horses galloping toward them down the beach.MacWilliams gave a cheer of welcome. "Hurrah!" he shouted, "it's Jose'coming for us. He's a good man. Well done, Jose'!" he called.
"That's not Jose'," Langham cried, doubtfully, peering through themoonlight. "Good God! It's Hope," he exclaimed. He waved his handsfrantically above his head. "Go back, Hope," he cried, "go back!"
But the carriage did not swerve on its way toward them. They all sawher now distinctly. She was on the driver's box and alone, leaningforward and lashing the horses' backs with the whip and reins, andbending over to avoid the bullets that passed above her head. As shecame down upon them, she stood up, her woman's figure outlined clearlyin the riding habit she still wore. "Jump in when I turn," she cried."I'm going to turn slowly, run and jump in."
She bent forward again and pulled the horses to the right, and as theyobeyed her, plunging and tugging at their bits, as though they knew thedanger they were in, the men threw themselves at the carriage. Claycaught the hood at the back, swung himself up, and scrambled over thecushions and up to the box seat. He dropped down behind Hope, andreaching his arms around her took the reins in one hand, and with theother forced her down to her knees upon the footboard, so that, as sheknelt, his arms and body protected her from the bullets sent afterthem. Langham followed Clay, and tumbled into the carriage over thehood at the back, but MacWilliams endeavored to vault in from the step,and missing his footing fell under the hind wheel, so that the weightof the carriage passed over him, and his head was buried for an instantin the sand. But he was on his feet again before they had noticed thathe was down, and as he jumped for the hood, Langham caught him by thecollar of his coat and dragged him into the seat, panting and gasping,and rubbing the sand from his mouth and nostrils. Clay turned thecarriage at a right angle through the heavy sand, and still standingwith Hope crouched at his knees, he raced back to the woods into theface of the firing, with the boys behind him answering it from eachside of the carriage, so that the horses leaped forward in a frenzy ofterror, and dashing through the woods, passed into the first road thatopened before them.
The road into which they had turned was narrow, but level, and ranthrough a forest of banana palms that bent and swayed above them.Langham and MacWilliams still knelt in the rear seat of the carriage,watching the road on the chance of possible pursuit.
"Give me some cartridges," said Langham. "My belt is empty. What roadis this?"
"It is a private road, I should say, through somebody's bananaplantation. But it must cross the main road somewhere. It doesn'tmatter, we're all right now. I mean to take it easy." MacWilliamsturned on his back and stretched out his legs on the seat opposite.
"Where do you suppose those men sprang from? Were they following usall the time?"
"Perhaps, or else that message got over the wire before we cut it, andthey've been lying in wait for us. They were probably watching Kingand his sailors for the last hour or so, but they didn't want him.They wanted her and the money. It was pretty exciting, wasn't it?How's your shoulder?"
"It's a little stiff, thank you," said Langham. He stood up and bypeering over the hood could just see the top of Clay's sombrero risingabove it where he sat on the back seat.
"You and Hope all right up there, Clay?" he asked.
The top of the sombrero moved slightly, and Langham took it as a signthat all was well. He dropped back into his seat beside MacWilliams,and they both breathed a long sigh of relief and content. Langham'swounded arm was the one nearest MacWilliams, and the latter parted thetorn sleeve and examined the furrow across the shoulder withunconcealed envy.
"I am afraid it won't leave a scar," he said, sympathetically.
"Won't it?" asked Langham, in some concern.
The horses had dropped into a walk, and the beauty of the moonlit nightput its spell upon the two boys, and the rustling of the great leavesabove their heads stilled and quieted them so that they unconsciouslyspoke in whispers.
Clay had not moved since the horses turned of their own accord into thevalley of the palms. He no longer feared pursuit nor any interruptionto their further progress. His only sensation was one of utterthankfulness that they were all well out of it, and that Hope had beenthe one who had helped them in their trouble, and his dearest thoughtwas that, whether she wished or not, he owed his safety, and possiblyhis life, to her.
She still crouched between his knees upon the broad footboard, with herhands clasped in front of her, and looking ahead into the vista of softmysterious lights and dark shadows that the moon cast upon the road.Neither of them spoke, and as the silence continued unbroken, it took aweightier significance, and at each added second of time became morefull of meaning.
The horses had dropped into a tired walk, and drew them smoothly overthe white road; from behind the hood came broken snatches of the boys'talk, and above their heads the heavy leaves of the palms bent andbowed as though in benediction. A warm breeze from the land filled theair with the odor of ripening fruit and pungent smells, and the silenceseemed to envelop them and mark them as the only living creatures awakein the brilliant tropical night.
Hope sank slowly back, and as she did so, her shoulder touched for aninstant against Clay's knee; she straightened herself and made amovement as though to rise. Her nearness to him and something in herattitude at his feet held Clay in a spell. He bent forward and laidhis hand fearfully upon her shoulder, and the touch seemed to stop theblood in his veins and hushed the words upon his lips. Hope raised herhead slowly as though with a great effort, and looked into his eyes.It seemed to him that he had been looking into those same eyes forcenturies, as though he had always known them, and the soul that lookedout of them into his. He bent his head lower, and stretching out hisarms drew her to him, and the eyes did not waver. He raised her andheld her close against his breast. Her eyes faltered and closed.
"Hope," he whispered, "Hope." He stooped lower and kissed her, and hislips told her what they could not speak--and they were quite alone.
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