by Helen Bagg
CHAPTER XVI
TOM DOES A MARATHON
That Jimmy Adams survived the operation of probing to which he wassubjected by Li Yow was to Tom Johnson evidence of an almost miraculousskill on the part of the Chinese doctor. Tom knew very little ofoperations. His life had been a normal one and the grisly sight which hewas called upon to witness would have altogether unmanned him had it notbeen for Mrs. Van's timely nip. As it was, he came out of the roomextremely depressed.
Depression was a mood which in Tom Johnson usually led to action. In thiscase his first move was to visit Cochise. It did not brighten his outlookupon life. Cochise was in no state to travel, that was evident. He wastired and stiff and his back showed signs of soreness. Rest wasundoubtedly what his case demanded.
"If you was a society dame, your doctor would send you to Miami for amonth and say cut out all mental strain," soliloquized the engineer,bathing the back gently. "Being as you're a horse, the best we can do isto turn you out to pasture for a while. Well, I'm no fancy rider, Godknows, but nobody can say I ever give a horse a sore back. That blanketwas pretty nigh off your tail when he brought you in. Any white man wouldhave stopped and fixed it."
He sauntered back to his cabin and sat down to think. Tom was tall, oversix feet, and very thin. His skin was brown and his straight black hairwhich he wore rather long, not because he liked it, but because hedisliked the Conejo barber, gave him rather an Indian look. His clotheshung loosely on him, lending very little to his personal charm, and whenhe sat he usually sat on his spine, a practice deplored by beauty doctors.When O'Grady came along a few minutes later, he was deep in thought.
"Say, what do you think of this here business over at Casa Grande?"demanded the latter persistently. "Think the Doc's lyin'?"
"Why should he? Besides, he was scared. He most put old Cochise out ofcommission. He saw something all right."
"Think it was Pachuca?"
"No. Why should Pachuca come back after he'd cleaned 'em out once?"
"Yaquis?"
"Might be. And ag'in it might be the rebels."
"Who is the rebels now? Johnny's bunch?" asked O'Grady.
"Search me. I suppose this here state of Sonora is fighting the rest, butI don't see that they've got any call to burn an Englishman's property.This here Mrs. Conrad's English, too, ain't she?"
"No, she ain't English, she's good plain American, Came from Boston, sameas Hard," said O'Grady.
"Well, don't an American woman lose her nationality when she marries aforeigner?" demanded Tom, wisely.
"She'd ought to if she marries an Englishman," replied O'Grady,belligerently. "But don't she get it back if he dies?"
"Hanged if I know! Woman's suffrage has come up since I left home,"replied Johnson, placidly. "Anyhow, I'm going to walk to Conejo and see ifI can't find out something about Casa Grande."
"Walk? Holy Moses! I'll go with you."
"No, you won't. Somebody's got to stay here and look after Mrs. Van andJimmy. The Doc can't fight and Williams don't think of anything but thestore. You and Miller have got to do the rest."
"Why don't you go to Casa Grande? It's nearer."
"What's the use? What could I do? If I go to Conejo, I can pick up Mendozaand his car and mebbe some fellers to go along and make a posse. Ofcourse, if they're cleaned out--but I'm figurin' that they ain't."
"Sure. You got to do that," replied O'Grady. "When you goin' to start?"
"Soon as I can get Mrs. Van to put me up some chow."
"Well, good luck to you--and the rest of them. I'd sure hate to think ofthem folks of ours massacred by a bunch of greasers," and O'Grady strolledsadly away.
Mrs. Van Zandt was washing dishes when Johnson stopped in with his requestHe prefaced it with an inquiry about the invalid.
"Oh, he's doin' all right, I guess. Doc's give him something to make himsleep. I'll say this for the man--he's a good doctor. He means to be adoctor while he's here, too. Nothing doing on the cooking job."
"No?"
"No, sir! I asked him something just kind of casual about pies and you'dhave said he'd never heard of one. Distant as anything! I suppose I canstand it if he cures Jimmy. Where you going?"
"Going to walk to Conejo."
"Walk!"
Tom repeated his plan. Mrs. Van wiped her eyes on the dish towel. "You'rea good man," she said, simply. "I wish I could go with you."
"I ain't feeling as brisk as I'm letting on about this business, Mrs.Van," continued Tom. "What that Chink saw don't listen good to me."
"Nor to me. When I think of those girls--well, I ain't going to think ofthem. After all, Tom, there's more ways for folks to get out of troublethan there is for them to get in. I've always noticed that. When I wasmarried, I had a husband who knew more about getting into trouble than anyliving man, and I used to notice that he always went about it in just thesame kind of ways--drink, cards, and women; but when I had to get him outof it--why, Lord, there were a million different ways I had to manage.There are loads of ways for smart folks to dodge trouble and our folks aresmart."
Johnson started for Conejo about noon. It was not the hour he would haveselected for a long walk in a warm climate, but he had no choice. He didnot try to make very rapid progress during the afternoon, his idea beingto get in his best work at night; so he rested whenever he struck a shadyspot. A stranger coming along and spying Tom stretched under a tree, withhis sombrero covering his face, would not have associated him withreckless speed. He ate his supper slowly, thanking Heaven for theinvention of the thermos bottle, and then started for the long pull.
It was cool and delightful now and he felt refreshed and invigorated. Hisbundle was light and he swung along at a good clip. In and out of arroyos,over little bridges, under fragrant branches of pine--the walk waspleasant and the engineer reflected that one sees a good deal from one'sfeet that one misses from the cab of an engine. Prairie dogs scuttled intotheir holes as he approached and chipmunks sat on branches and swore athim in sharp little voices. Now and then a far-away but penetrating odorreminded him of another night animal on the prowl.
His wisdom in following the railroad track instead of the road wasevident. It was longer but it led through the mountains at the lowestplaces. Midnight found him nearly out of the mountains, standing, tiredbut not exhausted, on the edge of a decline, looking over miles of thesemi-flat country to a dark spot where one or two lights twinkled faintlyand which he knew was Conejo.
"Old Swartz is still on the job," he reflected, as he rolled himself inhis blanket and settled down for a nap. He had built a small fire and laywith his feet almost in it. He stared ahead of him over the road which hemust travel before he could reach his destination and though his trip wasonly half made he felt as though he were already there, so encouraging wasthe sight of Swartz' night light.
"It's a great country for them that can stand the pace," he murmured,sleepily. "I've a notion sometimes to go back to Omaha and get me a wifeand settle down out here. Picking a woman these days is a risk, though.Get a young one, so's you can educate her, and ten to one you get anambitious young brat that wants to spend all your money seein' life. Picka settled one, a widow woman, say, and you get one that knows more'n youdo and that don't make for happiness in married life. Mrs. Van Zandt's alikely woman but she's had one gold brick--'tain't likely she'd want tofall for another. Besides, I can enjoy her cooking and her company withoutbein' married to her, and there's times I like right well to get clear ofher gab," and so he drifted into sleep, snoring comfortably before hisfire went out.
It was the middle of the afternoon when Johnson, tall, gaunt and tired,stalked into Swartz' store at Conejo where he found a situation for whichhe was not prepared. Conejo was under martial law, and from every doorwayhe saw the interested faces of women and children who stared at thesoldiers as they went by or stood talking in groups. The jail had amilitary guard while the office of the local _jefe_ swarmed with uniforms.Outside stood a motor truck and two large automobiles, quite dwarfingMend
oza's Ford, which, having been requisitioned, also stood near by, itswrathful owner lurking in the distance keeping an eye on his treasure.
In Swartz' store the fat owner was still in his accustomed seat, while theusual loafers still persistently loafed, but there were soldierseverywhere.
"Whew, this is something new for Conejo!" whistled Tom. "I reckon I'dbetter have a word with Dutch before I horn in. Say, Swartz," he said,pushing a crowd of youngsters out of the way, "got anything to drink? I'vejust walked in from Athens."
"My Gott, are you mad?" inquired Swartz, pleasantly.
"Not yet, but I'm likely to be if I don't get something down my gullet.Got any beer?"
"Beer?" Swartz' contempt was sweeping. "Look at dem," pointing to thesoldiers. "Doos that look like I haf any beer mit dem fellers around?"
"Who are they? Federals or Rebs?"
"De State troops. Don't you know dis here state has--what you callit--seceded?"
"Martial law, eh?"
Swartz nodded.
"Did they grab your stuff or did they pay for it?"
"Oh, dey pays--in paper money," replied the German, sourly.
"Well, you're better off than we are. They took our stuff, shot two of theboys, knifed another, and blew up our track."
"Who done it?"
"Young Pachuca and his crowd. Say, who's the boss of this outfit?"
Swartz opined that Colonel d'Anguerra, who was lodged in the house of thelocal _jefe_, was in command.
"Good-natured kind of a guy, is he?" queried Tom, anxiously. "Or one ofthe kind that orders out the firing squad if his dinner don't set well onhim?"
Swartz had seen better natured men than the Colonel, but on the other handadmitted that he had seen worse. "He iss a young man," he said, "and heain't got so much sense that it bothers him, yet he tries to keep themdevils quiet if he can."
"Well, give me a drink of water if you ain't got no beer. I guess I'lllook this feller up."
"I got some lemon pop," offered Swartz, hospitably. "Them fellers don'tlike it; it ain't got poison enough in it for 'em."
Johnson, having drunk the pop, departed for the official residence. Ittook some time and a good deal of diplomacy to get an audience with themilitary chief, but it was accomplished at last. D'Anguerra was a youngishman, tall, thin and sallow. He spoke very little English, but hissecretary spoke it very well and acted as interpreter, Tom's Spanish beingseveral degrees worse than the Colonel's English. The conversation in twotongues proceeded through the secretary with dispatch and accuracy.
"I understand that you are from an American mining company located atAthens?" the Colonel began.
"I am," replied Tom, a little awed by the other's dignity and thethreefold nature of the dialogue.
"You have been raided by bandits, eh?"
"Well, I suppose you'd call it that. Juan Pachuca helped himself to whathe wanted and shot two of our boys."
"Killed them?"
"No, they ain't killed, but one of 'em's likely to lose a leg. He knifedone, but the knife was dull and he ain't hurt much. But that ain't what Icome over here about." And Tom went on with Li Yow's story of the CasaGrande raid, the arrival of Scott, Hard and Polly, and the fire. "I dunnoand he dunno who done the burnin' or what else has happened over there,but he says they heard Pachuca say somethin' about meeting Angel Gonzales,and I guess you know who he is. I thought mebbe you could let me have acar and a posse and I could go over and see what's been done."
The Colonel and his secretary conversed together for a few moments, Tomlistening anxiously but quite unable to get the thread of the talk.
"You see, Colonel," he continued, anxiously, "I dunno if this littlerevolution of yours is going to turn out the real thing or not; butthere's one thing you can be darn sure of if it does, and that is that oneof the first letters your new president's going to get in his officialmail is going to be a bill of damages from Washington and whatever'shappened to our folks is going to be wrote down in it."
Colonel d'Anguerra smiled patiently. "I will tell you, senor, what I knowabout the affair at Casa Grande. According to this dispatch, a regiment ofSonora troops passed by the ranch on their way south. They saw flames andheard shots. A band of Yaquis who had been driven from their village byone Angel Gonzales were burning and looting. The troops' orders were forhaste and they did not stop to find out the extent of the damage butcalled off the Yaquis. You perhaps know that those Indians are excellentsoldiers and that there are many of them in our army."
"You mean to say they didn't go over to see if anything had happened tothe women folks?" demanded Tom, aghast.
"Their orders were positive. They could not take the time. To-day we havenews that some of our troops have crossed the Sinaloa border. These menwho passed Casa Grande were on their way to Hermosillo to guard thecapital."
"Well, it does look like you were pulling it off, don't it?" Tom's voicewas admiring in spite of himself. "What beats me, senor, is how you manageto pump enough enthusiasm into these fellers to keep them fighting. You'vebeen at it nearly ten years now. In my country we'd either have put itthrough by that time or given it up as a bad job and pretended we'd neverwanted it anyhow."
The Mexican laughed. "My friend," he said, seriously, "people will fightfor more than ten years with the hope of liberty and a good governmentahead of them. This time we hope to get both."
"Well, I hope you do. It's too good a country to go to the dogs. But aboutthis Juan Pachuca----"
"He is no business of mine," replied the Colonel, briefly. "He was out offavor with the Carranza government and evidently hopes to get into thesaddle again through the revolution. Personally, I do not believe he will.General Obregon is not fond of his type. Angel Gonzales is what you callin your country a regular bad lot. I have orders in this dispatch to lookinto his case. As to the automobile. I can give you an order for the carwhich you saw outside--the small one. I can't spare any men."
"Mendoza's Ford?" groaned Tom. "I knew I'd draw that. Well, never mind,senor. I'm obliged to you just the same."
The order written, Mendoza was induced to start. "What the devil are thosefor?" demanded Johnson, as he saw the old Mexican putting three large cansin the car.
"Water," replied Mendoza, tersely. "Las' time I drive him ze radiator heleak. I mend him, but _quien sabe_? We play safe, eh?"
"My God, yes," murmured Tom. "Come on, _amigo_, it's near six and thishere's no country to be rattlin' round in a damaged Ford after dark."
The little car justified its owner's faith in it, however, for it wentalong at a good clip. The road from Conejo was fairly good and they madegood time. The sun was down and the evening had set when they reached theplace where Scott and Polly had taken the trail. Mendoza stopped the car.
"Lots of men been by here," he said. "Soldiers or bandits--mebbe bot'."
"What d'ye mean?" demanded Tom, waking up. "How can you tell?"
"Don' have to be Injun to know dat. See tracks," grunted Mendoza. "Mebbehundred men come here from trail, _amigo_."
Tom looked. The banks of the river were broken and trodden by the feet ofmany horses. Even in the dim light he could see that, though he wouldnever have noticed it for himself. He admitted when Mendoza persisted thatit did look as though a large party of horsemen had crossed the river.
"Well, they've passed anyhow, so we should worry. Got a gun?"
"_Si_," grinned Mendoza, cheerfully, "I always got a gun."
"Hold on, what's this?" They had come around the corner and saw, by theedge of the road, the wrecked wagon. "That's Herrick's wagon," said Tom,excitedly. "In the ditch!" He got down and went to investigate.
"Wheel's busted. Horses must have got scared and bolted round the curve,"said the engineer, meditatively. "Nothin' in the wagon. Looks bad to me;don't it to you, Mendoza?"
"_Si_," responded Mendoza. "We go by Soria's place. He know mebbe whathappen."
"All right," assented Tom, sadly. "If they'd got away on the horses seemsto me we'd have seen or heard some
thin' of them on the road. Unless theywent by the trail--in that case them fellers on horseback would have met'em. Well, step on your gas, Mendoza, and let's get to Soria's."
Soria's place was empty. Not a child, nor a dog, nor a burro. Not a signof life on the place anywhere. This was a blow and intensified Tom'sgloomy fears. He did not speak as they drove on to Casa Grande. The moonwas coming up and they saw the badly burned ruins of the barn as theyturned in.
"Ze house is lef'," said Mendoza, consolingly.
"Yes, it is," said Tom. "But look at them windows! Riddled with bullets.The boys must have put up a good fight with them Indians, anyhow. Tell youwhat, Mendoza, I'd give a good deal to see old Scotty's ugly mug in one of'em! Come on, we may as well go in," and he stepped apprehensively out ofthe car.