CHAPTER XXI
A STAGE PREPARED FOR TRAGEDY
Not knowing when his opportunity might come, Harrison kept his horsesaddled most of the time. He knew that extra mounted patrols were keptat the ends of the streets and at other points on the mesa surroundingthe town, and that he would have to take a chance of being able to runthe gauntlet in safety. If luck favored him, he might win past these.For one thing the Mexicans were very poor shots, a little the worst hehad ever seen. It might be, too, that he would have darkness in hisfavor, though he could not count on this.
By Enrique he had sent to Governor Farrugia a map of the camp, givingdetailed information as to the number and position of the troops andshowing from what direction the camp could best be attacked. In hisletter he had urged immediate action, on the ground that a part of themen were absent with Major Ochampa on a foraging expedition. If Farrugiarose to the occasion, he hoped in the confusion of the assault to escapewith Ruth.
Meanwhile he waited, and the hours slipped away. It was now Fridaynoon, and the wedding was to be Saturday morning.
Four denim-clad troopers and a sergeant marched raggedly down the streetand stopped in front of Harrison's adobe house.
"The general wishes to see the senor," explained the sergeant.
The American knew the crucial hour had come. This was the first move ofPasquale in the programme to destroy him. He made no protest, butstepped forward at once, leading his horse by the bridle. The sergeantwas a little dubious about the horse, but his orders did not cover thepoint and he made no objection.
Pasquale was standing in front of his house on the porch, bow legs wideapart and hands crossed behind his back. Harrison stopped directly infront of him. The soldiers moved back a dozen yards.
"Well," demanded the heavyweight.
"I sent for you to explain something to me, sir," said the Mexicangeneral harshly.
"What is it?"
"This letter and map."
Pasquale stepped forward, handed two papers to Harrison, and quicklystepped back till his back was against the wall of the house. Somethingin his manner stirred the banked suspicions of the American. Already hisnerves were keyed to unusual tension, for he knew the moment of cruxwas hurrying toward him. Why had the troopers fallen back so far? Whywas Pasquale so anxious to put a wide space between himself and hisprisoner?
The eyes of the film actor, clouded with doubt of what was about to takeplace, fell to the papers in his hand. He was looking at the letter andthe map he had sent to Governor Farrugia.
Instantly his mind was made up. But as the blue barrel of his revolverflashed into sight there came the simultaneous roar of a volley. Theforce of it seemed to lift Harrison from his feet. Before his saggingknees had touched the dust the man was dead.
Pasquale drew a forty-five and fired three times into the lax andhuddled body. He nodded to the men in the smoke-filled windows upstairs.
"Come down and bury this Gringo dog's body," he ordered.
They trooped down noisily. Pasquale kicked the body carelessly with histoe. "He was a traitor to the cause. The proof is in that paper. Hand itto me, Juan."
The general read the letter aloud. "He would have betrayed us all butfor the patriotism of a messenger who would not be bribed. The mandeserved death. Not so?"
They shouted approval and added, "Viva Pasquale!" in an enthusiasticroar. Ramon Culvera, who had just arrived on the scene, led the cheeringwith much vigor.
From every house men, boys, and women poured. The streets filled withnoisy patriots. Guns popped here and there to ventilate the energy oftheir owners. Troopers galloped up and down the road in clouds of dustshooting into the air as they rode. Boys who would have run their legsoff to obey a whim of Harrison spat contemptuously upon the face of the"Gringo cabrone."
Drawn by the hubbub, Captain Holcomb hurried from his house. He lookeddown at the lifeless body four soldiers were carrying away and turned toPasquale for an explanation.
The general handed him the papers that proved Harrison's guilt. "I haveexecuted a traitor, captain. The dog would have sold us out to Farrugia.Is his punishment not just?"
Holcomb looked the papers over and handed them back to his chief. "Hegot what was coming to him," he answered quietly.
"I have witnesses to show that he was drawing his revolver toassassinate me at the very moment he was shot. My men were just intime."
"It was fortunate for you your men happened to be so handy," repliedthe American officer with just a suggestion of dryness.
For Holcomb knew, just as Yeager did, that the scene had been set byPasquale for the killing. His men had been stationed in the windowsabove, unknown to the victim. The heavyweight had been tempted to reachfor his weapon by the certainty that he had come to the end of thepassage. Doing so, he had given the signal for his own death. Had hefailed to do this, the Mexican general would have sprung the traphimself in another minute. Fortunately this had not been necessary.Pasquale was in a position to prove to the United States Government, incase it became inquisitive, that when the man had been confronted withhis guilt he had tried to kill him and had been shot down red-handed.
Half an hour later Holcomb came into his house and found Steve cleaninga pair of revolvers. The captain tossed his hat on the bed and sat down.
"Up to us, looks like," he commented.
Yeager nodded silently.
"Harrison hadn't a look-in. The old scoundrel had the cards stacked,"continued the officer.
"Yep. Chad sat in against a cold deck. He made a big mistake when he letthe old man take the play."
"Everything fixed for to-night?"
"Far as it can be. We've just got to take a big chance and trust to luckbeing with us," answered Steve.
"Guess you'll have to make your own luck. I spoke to Pasquale about agame here to-night. He grabbed at the bait. Said he would bring Culveraand Ochampa. I'll make a long session of it so as to give you all thetime you need."
"Better have a boy here to serve the liquor and cigars. If you shouldhear shooting, and Gabriel gets anxious about it, you can send the boyto find out what it's about. That will give us a few minutes more to getaway."
"Sure your dope is strong enough?"
"The man who fixed it ought to know. He's a registered druggist atPhoenix," replied the range-rider.
Yeager had never before sat in the anxious seat as nervously as he didduring the next few hours. His nature was not of the kind to borrowtrouble. Usually he could accept responsibility without letting it worryhim. But to-night he was playing for big stakes--his own life certainlywas in the hazard, probably those of Farrar and Threewit, possibly thatof the Texan. And what weighed with him more than all these was the fateof the young girl in the back room upstairs waiting with a leaden heartfor this dreadful thing that was to befall her. It was in the game thata man must take his fighting chance. But a girl--and above all girlsRuth--the thought of it stabbed his heart like a knife.
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