by Rex Beach
XXVI
THE WATER-CURE
Without an instant's hesitation Dave flung himself past Rosa andthrough the inner door.
Jose Sanchez met him with a shout; the shock of their collisionoverbore the lighter man, and the two went down together, arms and legsintertwined. The horse-breaker fired his revolver blindly--a deafeningexplosion inside those four walls--but he was powerless against hisantagonist's strength and ferocity. It required but a moment for Law tomaster him, to wrench the weapon from his grasp, and then, with the aidof Jose's silk neck-scarf, to bind his wrists tightly.
From the front of the little house came the crash of a door violentlyslammed as Rosa profited by the diversion to save herself.
When finally Jose stood, panting and snarling, his back to the wall,Dave regarded him with a sinister contraction of the lips that wasalmost a grin.
"Well," he said, drawing a deep breath, "I see you didn't go to theeast pasture this morning."
"What do you want of me?" Jose managed to gasp.
There was a somewhat prolonged silence, during which Dave continued tostare at his prisoner with that same disquieting expression. "Why didyou kill Don Eduardo?" he asked.
"I? Bah! Who says I killed him?" Jose glared defiance. "Why are youlooking at me? Come! Take me to jail, if you think that will do anygood."
"It's lucky I rode to Las Palmas this morning. In another hour youwould have been across the Rio Grande--with Rosa and all her fineclothes, eh? Now you will be hanged. Well, that is how fortune goes."
The horse-breaker tossed his head and shrugged with a brave assumptionof indifference; he laughed shortly. "You can prove nothing."
"Yes," continued Dave, "and Rosa will go to prison, too. Now--suppose Ishould let you go? Would you help me? In ten minutes you could besafe." He inclined his head toward the muddy, silent river outside."Would you be willing to help me?"
Jose's brows lifted. "What's this you are saying?" he inquired, eagerly.
"I would only ask you a few questions."
"What questions?"
"Where is Senora Austin?"
Jose's face became blank. "I don't know."
"Oh yes, you do. She started for La Feria. But--did she get there? Ordid Longorio have other plans for her? You'd better tell me the truth,for your general can't help you now." Dave did his best to read theMexican's expression, but failed. "Senor Ed's death means nothing tome," he went on, "but I must know where his wife is, and I'm willing topay, with your liberty." In spite of himself his anxiety was plain.
Jose exclaimed: "Ho! I understand. He was in your way and you're gladto be rid of him. Well, we have no business fighting with each other."
"Will you tell me--?"
"I'll tell you nothing, for I know nothing."
"Come! I must know."
Jose laughed insolently.
Law's face became black with sudden fury. His teeth bared themselves.He took a step forward, crying:
"By God! You WILL tell me!" Seizing his prisoner by the throat, hepinned him to the wall; then with his free hand he cocked Longorio'srevolver and thrust its muzzle against Jose's body. "Tell me!" herepeated. His countenance was so distorted, his expression so maniacal,that Jose felt his hour had come. The latter, being in all waysMexican, did not struggle; instead, he squared his shoulders and,staring fearlessly into the face above him, cried:
"Shoot!"
For a moment the two men remained so; then Dave seemed to regaincontrol of himself and the murder light flickered out of his eyes. Heflung his prisoner aside and cast the revolver into a corner of theroom.
Jose picked himself up, cursing his captor eloquently. "You Gringosdon't know how to die," he said. "Death? Pah! We must die some time.And supposing I do know something about the senora, do you think youcan force me to speak? Torture wouldn't open my lips."
Law did not trust himself to reply; and the horse-breaker went on withgrowing defiance:
"I am innocent of any crime; therefore I am brave. But you--The bloodof innocent men means nothing to you--Panfilo's murder proves that--socomplete your work. Make an end of me."
"Be still!" Dave commanded, thickly.
But the fellow's hatred was out of bounds now, and by the bitterness ofhis vituperation he seemed to invite death. Dave interrupted hisvitriolic curses to ask harshly:
"Will you tell me, or will you force me to wring the truth out of you?"
Jose answered by spitting at his captor; then he gritted an unspeakableepithet from between his teeth.
Dave addressed him with an air of finality. "You killed that man andyour life is forfeit, so it doesn't make much difference whether I takeit or whether the State takes it. You are brave enough to die--most ofyou Mexicans are--but the State can't force you to speak, and I can."Jose sneered. "Oh yes, I can! I intend to know all that you know, andit will be better for you to tell me voluntarily. I must learn whereSenora Austin is, and I must learn quickly, if I have to kill you byinches to get the truth."
"So! Torture, eh? Good. I can believe it of you. Well, a slow fire willnot make me speak."
"No. A fire would be too easy, Jose."
"Eh?"
Without answer Dave strode out of the room. He was back before hisprisoner could do more than wrench at his bonds, and with him hebrought his lariat and his canteen.
"What are you going to do?" Jose inquired, backing away until he wasonce more at bay.
"I'm going to give you a drink."
"Whisky? You think you can make me drunk?" The horse-breaker laughedloudly but uneasily.
"Not whisky; water. I'm going to give you a drink of water."
"What capers!"
"When you've drunk enough you'll tell me why you killed your employerand where General Longorio has taken his wife. Yes, and everything elseI want to know." Seizing the amazed Mexican, Dave flung him uponMorales's hard board bed, and in spite of the fellow's struggles deftlymade him fast. When he had finished--and it was no easy job--Jose lay"spread-eagled" upon his back, his wrists and ankles firmly bound tothe head and foot posts, his body secured by a tight loop over hiswaist. The rope cut painfully and brought a curse from the prisonerwhen he strained at it. Law surveyed him with a face of stone.
"I don't want to do this," he declared, "but I know your kind. I giveyou one more chance. Will you tell me?"
Jose drew his lips back in a snarl of rage and pain, and Dave realizedthat further words were useless. He felt a certain pity for his victimand no little admiration for his courage, but such feelings were ofsmall consequence as against his agonizing fears for Alaire's safety.Had he in the least doubted Jose's guilty knowledge of Longorio'sintentions, Dave would have hesitated before employing the barbarousmeasures he had in mind, but--there was nothing else for it. He pulledthe canteen cork and jammed the mouthpiece firmly to Jose's lips.Closing the fellow's nostrils with his free hand, he forced him todrink.
Jose clenched his teeth, he tried to roll his head, he held his breathuntil his face grew purple and his eyes bulged. He strained like a manupon the rack. The bed creaked to his muscular contortions; the ropetightened. It was terribly cruel, this crushing of a strong will benton resistance to the uttermost; but never was an executioner morepitiless, never did a prisoner's agony receive less consideration. Thewarm water spilled over Jose's face, it drenched his neck and chest;his joints cracked as he strove for freedom and tried to twist his headout of Law's iron grasp. The seconds dragged, until finally Natureasserted herself. The imprisoned breath burst forth; there sounded aloud gurgling cry and a choking inhalation. Jose's body writhed withthe convulsions of drowning as the water and air were sucked into hislungs. Law was kneeling over his victim now, his weight and strength soapplied that Jose had no liberty of action and could only drink,coughing and fighting for air. Somehow he managed to revive himselfbriefly and again shut his teeth; but a moment more and he was againretched with the furious battle for air, more desperate now thanbefore. After a while Law freed his victim's nostrils and allowed him
apartial breath, then once more crushed the mouthpiece against his lips.By and by, to relieve his torture, Jose began to drink in great noisygulps, striving to empty the vessel.
But the stomach's capacity is limited. In time Jose felt himselfbursting; the liquid began to regurgitate. This was not mere pain thathe suffered, but the ultimate nightmare horror of a death more awfulthan anything he had ever imagined. Jose would have met a bullet, aknife, a lash, without flinching; flames would not have served toweaken his resolve; but this slow drowning was infinitely worse thanthe worst he had thought possible; he was suffocating by long, black,agonizing minutes. Every nerve and muscle of his body, every cell inhis bursting lungs, fought against the outrage in a purely physicalfrenzy over which his will power had no control. Nor wouldinsensibility come to his relief--Law watched him too carefully forthat. He could not even voice his sufferings by shrieks; he could onlywrithe and retch and gurgle while the ropes bit into his flesh and hiscaptor knelt upon him like a monstrous stone weight.
But Jose had made a better fight than he knew. The canteen ran dry atlast, and Law was forced to release his hold.
"Will you speak?" he demanded.
Thinking that he had come safely through the ordeal, Jose shook hishead; he rolled his bulging, bloodshot eyes and vomited, then managedto call God to witness his innocence.
Dave went into the next room and refilled the canteen. When hereappeared with the dripping vessel in his hand, Jose tried to scream.But his throat was torn and strained; the sound of his own voicefrightened him.
Once more the torment began. The tortured man was weaker now, and inconsequence he resisted more feebly; but not until he was less thanhalf conscious did Law spare him time to recover.
Jose lay sick, frightened, inert. Dave watched him without pity. Thefellow's wrists were black and swollen, his lips were bleeding; he wasstretched like a dumb animal upon the vivisectionist's table, and nosurgeon with lance and scalpel could have shown less emotion than didhis inquisitor. Having no intention of defeating his own ends, Daveallowed his victim ample time in which to regain his ability to suffer.
Alaire Austin had been right when she said that Dave might be ruthless;and yet the man was by no means incapable of compassion. At the presentmoment, however, he considered himself simply as the instrument bywhich Alaire was to be saved. His own feelings had nothing to do withthe matter; neither had the sufferings of this Mexican. Therefore hesteeled himself to prolong the agony until the murderer's stubbornspirit was worn down. Once again he put his question, and, againreceiving defiance, jammed the canteen between Jose's teeth.
But human nature is weak. For the first time in his life Jose Sanchezfelt terror--a terror too awful to be endured--and he made the sign.
He was no longer the insolent defier, the challenger, but an imploringwretch, whose last powers of resistance had been completely shattered.His frightened eyes were glued to that devilish vessel in which hismanhood had dissolved, the fear of it made a woman of him.
Slowly, in sighs and whimpers, in agonies of reluctance, his storycame; his words were rendered almost incomprehensible by his abysmalfright. When he had purged himself of his secret Dave promptly unboundhim; then leaving him more than half dead, he went to the telephonewhich connected the pumping station with Las Palmas and called up theranch.
He was surprised when Blaze Jones answered. Blaze, it seemed, had justarrived, summoned by news of the tragedy. The countryside had beenalarmed and a search for Ed Austin's slayer was being organized.
"Call it off," Dave told him. "I've got your man." Blaze stuttered hissurprise and incredulity. "I mean it. It's Jose Sanchez, and he hasconfessed. I want you to come here, quick; and come alone, if you don'tmind. I need your help."
Inside of ten minutes Jones piloted his automobile into the clearingbeside the river, and, leaving his motor running, leaped from the car.
Dave met him at the door of the Morales house and briefly told him thestory of Jose's capture.
"Say! That's quick work," the rancher cried, admiringly. "Why, Ed ain'tcold yet! You gave him the 'water-cure,' eh? Now I reckoned it wouldtake more than water to make a Mexican talk."
"Jose was hired for the work; he laid for Ed Austin in the pecan groveand shot him as he passed."
"Hired! Why this hombre needs quick hangin', don't he? I told 'em atLas Palmas that you'd rounded up the guilty party, so I reckon they'llbe here in a few minutes. We'll just stretch this horse-wrangler, andsave the county some expense." Law shrugged. "Do what you like withhim, but--it isn't necessary. He'll confess in regulation form, I'msure. I had to work fast to learn what became of Mrs. Austin."
"Miz Austin? What's happened to her?"
Dave's voice changed; there was a sudden quickening of his words."They've got her, Blaze. They waited until they had her safe beforethey killed Ed."
"'They?' Who the hell are you talkin' about?"
"I mean Longorio and his outfit. He's got her over yonder." Dave flungout a trembling hand toward the river. Seeing that his hearer failed tocomprehend, he explained, swiftly: "He's crazy about her--got one ofthose Mexican infatuations--and you know what that means. He couldn'tsteal her from Las Palmas--she wouldn't have anything to do withhim--so he used that old cattle deal as an excuse to get her across theborder. Then he put Ed out of the way. She went of her own accord, andshe didn't tell Austin, because they were having trouble. She's gone toLa Feria, Blaze."
"La Feria! Then she's in for it."
Dave nodded his agreement; for the first time Blaze noted how white andset was his friend's face.
"Longorio must have foreseen what was coming," Dave went on. "Thatcountry's aflame; Americans aren't safe over there. If war is declared,a good many of them will never be heard from. He knows that. He's gother safe. She can't get out."
Blaze was very grave when next he spoke. "Dave, this is bad--bad. Ican't understand what made her go. Why, she must have been out of herhead. But we've got to do something. We've got to burn the wires toWashington--yes, and to Mexico City. We must get the government to sendsoldiers after her. God! What have we got 'em for, anyhow?"
"Washington won't do anything. What can be done when there arethousands of American women in the same danger? What steps can thegovernment take, with the fleet on its way to Vera Cruz, with the armymobilizing, and with diplomatic relations suspended? Those Greasers arefilling their jails with our people--rounding 'em up for the day of thebig break--and the State Department knows it. No, Longorio saw it allcoming--he's no fool. He's got her; she's in there--trapped."
Blaze took the speaker by the shoulder and faced him about. "Lookhere," said he, "I'm beginnin' to get wise to you. I believeyou're--the man in the case." When Dave nodded, he vented his amazementin a long whistle. After a moment he asked, "Well, why did you want meto come here alone, ahead of the others?"
"Because I want you to know the whole inside of this thing so that youcan get busy when I'm gone; because I want to borrow what money youhave--"
"What you aimin' to pull off?" Blaze inquired, suspiciously.
"I'm going to find her and bring her out."
"You? Why, Dave, you can't get through. This is a job for the soldiers."
But Dave hardly seemed to hear him. "You must start things moving atonce," he said, urgently. "Spread the news, get the story into thepapers, notify the authorities. Get every influence at work, from hereto headquarters; get your Senator and the Governor of the state atwork. Ellsworth will help you. And now give me your last dollar."
Blaze emptied his pockets, shaking his shaggy head the while. "La Feriais a hundred and fifty miles in," he remonstrated.
"By rail from Pueblo, yes. But it's barely a hundred, straight fromhere."
"You 'ain't got a chance, single-handed. You're crazy to try it."
The effect of these words was startling, for Dave laughed harshly."'Crazy' is the word," he agreed. "It's a job for a lunatic, and that'sme. Yes, I've got bad blood in me, Blaze--bad blood--and I'm taking itback whe
re I got it. But listen!" He turned a sick, colorless face tohis friend. "They'll whittle a cross for Longorio if I do get through."He called to Montrosa, and the mare came to him, holding her head toone side so as not to tread upon her dragging reins.
"I'm 'most tempted to go with you," Blaze stammered, uncertainly.
"No. Somebody has to stay here and stir things up, If we had twenty menlike you we might cut our way in and out, but there's no time toorganize, and, anyhow, the government would probably stop us. I've gota hunch that I'll make it. If I don't--why, it's all right."
The two men shook hands lingeringly, awkwardly; then Blaze managed towish his friend luck. "If you don't come back," he said, with apeculiar catch in his voice, "I reckon there's enough good Texans leftto follow your trail. I'll sure look forward to it."
Dave took the river-bank to Sangre de Cristo, where, by means of thedilapidated ferry, he gained the Mexican side. Once across, he rodestraight up toward the village of Romero. When challenged by anunder-sized soldier he merely spurred Montrosa forward, eyeing thesentry so grimly that the man did no more than finger his rifleuncertainly, cursing under his breath the overbearing airs of allGringos. Nor did the rider trouble to make the slightest detour, butcantered the full length of Romero's dusty street, the target of morethan one pair of hostile eyes. To those who saw him, soldiers andcivilians alike, it was evident that this stranger had business, and noone felt called upon to question its nature. There are men who carry anair more potent than a bodyguard, and Dave Law was one of these. Beforethe village had thoroughly awakened to his coming he was gone, withouta glance to the right or left, without a word to anyone.
When Romero was at his back he rode for a mile or two through a regionof tiny scattered farms and neglected garden patches, after which hecame out into the mesquite. For all the signs he saw, he might thenhave been in the heart of a foreign country. Mexico had swallowed him.
As the afternoon heat subsided, Montrosa let herself out into a freergait and began to cover the distance rapidly, heading due west througha land of cactus and dagger, of thorn and barb and bramble.
The roads were unfenced, the meadows desolate; the huts were frequentlyuntenanted. Ahead the sky burned splendidly, and the sunset grew morebrilliant, more dazzling, until it glorified the whole mean, thirsty,cruel countryside.
Dave's eyes were set upon that riot of blazing colors, but for the timeit failed to thrill him. In that welter of changing hues and tints hesaw only red. Red! That was the color of blood; it stood for passion,lust, violence; and it was a fitting badge of color for this land ofrevolutions and alarms. At first he saw little else--except the hint ofblack despair to follow. But there was gold in the sunset, too--theyellow gold of ransom! That was Mexico--red and yellow, blood and gold,lust and license. Once the rider's fancy began to work in this fashion,it would not rest, and as the sunset grew in splendor he found in itricher meanings. Red was the color of a woman's lips--yes, and awoman's hair. The deepening blue of the high sky overhead was the hueof a certain woman's eyes. A warm, soft breeze out of the west beatinto his face, and he remembered how warm and soft Alaire's breath hadbeen upon his cheek.
The woman of his desires was yonder, where those colors warred, and shewas mantled in red and gold and purple for his coming. The thoughtaroused him; the sense of his unworthiness vanished, the blight fellfrom him; he felt only a throbbing eagerness to see her and to take herin his arms once more before the end.
With his head high and his face agleam, he rode into the west, into theheart of the sunset.