by Helen Bagg
CHAPTER XIX
POLLY MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
Not far from the Mexican border lies the town of Chula Vista, New Mexico.It is a small town, does not even boast of a railroad connection nearerthan twenty-five or thirty miles, being, like Conejo, on a bi-weekly spur;but it is a town of reputation and a not altogether blameable civicpride.
It has borne its part in the border warfare with credit. It hasslaughtered and been slaughtered, one might say, and rather enjoyed bothproceedings. When, some years ago, a Mexican bandit raided Chula Vista andcarried off a young woman, the citizens of the town organized anexpedition, followed him across the line, and recovered the lady, none theworse for her experience; which proves not only that Chula Vista is awide-awake town, but that some bandits are not as black as they arepainted.
Chula Vista, on the afternoon when our party entered it, duly chaperonedby the aged Mendoza, presented an everyday appearance. The Chula VistaTrading Company was doing its usual business, and, as this was before thedays of prohibition, several saloons were doing what they could to relievea universal thirst. An ambitious building of brick, the new schoolhouse,witnessed the fact that culture was believed in, even pursued.
The other buildings were less imposing. There was the butcher's place, asmall adobe with a fenced-in yard. As Mendoza's car drove past it, thebutcher, with sanguinary intentions, was occupied in driving a wise andreluctant young steer around the yard. A little further along was theRoman Catholic Church--a Penitentes church, by the way, and the littlehouse of Father Silva, who officiated. Further still was a long lowbuilding which had once been a livery stable, but which had been alteredto meet the needs of a moving picture theatre, and the Commonwealth House,kept by Sam Penhallow, who varied the monotony of hotel keeping byexercising the duties of sheriff of the county. He it was who had crossedthe line after the kidnapped young lady. The newspapers had featured himas a Texas Ranger, which he was not and never had been, but that wasrather a near thing for a newspaper.
Penhallow was a tall, thin, brown-skinned man, who wore checked suits andwho had the long drooping mustache which fiction assigns to the calling ofa sheriff. Whether fiction is right in this particular, or whether Samwore the mustache to conform with the best standards, is not important. Hewas sitting in a tilted chair, on the narrow strip of flooring whichserved the hotel as a veranda when Mendoza and his party wheezed intoview.
Penhallow's conventional welcome expanded into real warmth when herecognized Scott, who was well known in Chula Vista.
"Hullo," he said, his hand outstretched. "If it ain't Marc Scott! Driveyou out down there, did they? Well, Mendoza--blamed if I didn't think youwas dead long ago! No, I don't guess I know the ladies or your otherfriend, but any friend of Scott's has got the keys of the city all right."He turned and called into the house: "Mabel, come out here!"
"One of these ladies, Miss Street, is on her way to Chicago," said Scott.Polly, restored to good looks by a few days rest and her prettiest laceblouse, beamed on Mr. Penhallow with the usual result. "Mrs. Conrad,"continued Scott, "is a friend of ours and is going back with the younglady. No, we weren't driven out but things are rather bad down yonder."
"Well, you ladies sure have courage, travelin' round at this time," saidthe admiring Penhallow. A tall pretty girl appeared in the doorway and wasintroduced as "my daughter, Mabel, who runs the ranch. Mabel, show theseladies the best rooms we've got. Give 'em the bridal soot if you can findit."
Hard, suitcases in hand, followed the women into the hotel, while Mendozasteamed away to a haunt of his own. Scott sank into an armchair andsettled himself for a talk with Penhallow.
"That young Street's sister?" demanded the latter.
Scott nodded.
"I heard Bob Street had married a Douglas girl?"
"He did." Scott explained the situation in regard to Polly. "Her peopleare anxious about her and wrote her to come back at once, so we'recarrying out instructions. The other folks----" Scott paused and surveyedthe sheriff with an eye that twinkled. "Are you good at keeping secrets,Sam?" he said.
"Well, I have kept 'em," replied Sam, modestly.
"Well, the lady is a widow, runs a ranch down South, and the tall chap isour chief engineer, a Boston man. They're up here to get spliced beforeshe goes East."
"So! Well, no reason why they shouldn't, I s'pose?"
"None that I know of."
"I kind of had a hunch 'twas her and you when you got out of the car,Marc."
"Me!"
"Yes. You needn't blush. You ain't too old to think of settlin' down ifyou pick a woman that ain't too young and giddy for you."
"I'm not asking your advice on matrimony, you old fool, I'm asking ifyou've got anybody in this one-horse place who can marry folks legally,"said Marc, touchily.
"The judge could, I guess, but in a case like this there'd be more tone toit if you had the Padre. We haven't got any Protestant fellow here justnow," replied Penhallow, meditatively.
"The Padre's the boy. I'll go over and interview him now."
"You can't. He's to a christening at some Mexican's up the creek. Won't behome till late."
"Well, morning's as good a time as any, I reckon, for a wedding," saidScott, philosophically. "We've got to stay over anyhow, to see the womenoff. Tomorrow's your train day, ain't it? Or have you changed yourschedule?"
"No, we haven't changed it," replied Penhallow. "Only we don't run on itmuch. We will to-morrow, though, because I'm sending a lot of hogs over."
"That's good. Say, what do they think up here of the revolution?"
"Which one?" with a chuckle.
"The new one. Looks like the real thing down yonder."
"Well, of course, we were looking for trouble before the elections. Wenever expected the old man to keep his hands off the ballot box andeveryone knows the man he put up--Bonillas--has got no show. It'll beObregon, I s'pose?"
"It's hard to say. I was in Conejo a couple of days ago and they saidSinaloa had followed Sonora and a good many of the other states would fallin line in a few days. Obregon's broken away from Mexico City--guess youheard that--and they're talking of De la Huerta for provisionalpresident."
"Know him? De la Huerta?"
"I've seen him. He's a young chap--some folks think he's a radical--Idon't know."
"Had any trouble at your place?"
Scott narrated the proceedings of Juan Pachuca at some length and withsome heat. "A military guy over in Conejo told me that he'd had orders toclean up the state, so when Tom wised him up to the fact that Pachuca andAngel Gonzales were doping it up to meet somewhere around Pachuca's place,he sent a troop of men down there, cut Angel off and smashed up the wholebusiness."
"Get their men?"
"Got Angel, but Pachuca slid out."
"They let him probably."
"Maybe so."
"Framed it up for him so's not to hurt the feelings of any of hishigh-toned friends."
"Shouldn't wonder. What time do you eat around here, Sam?"
"How'll six suit you?"
"Suits me fine. I'll go and break it to Hard that he can't get marriedtill morning. I suppose this Spanish chap won't object to marryin' acouple of Presbyterians? That's what they say they are."
"Gosh, no, the Padre's a regular fellow," replied Penhallow, easily. "Yougive him his fee and he ain't going to raise no rows."
The dining-room of Sam Penhallow's hotel was a fair-sized room with onelong dinner table and three small round ones. These latter were aconcession to the habits of certain citizens who brought their sweetheartson the nights that Sam served chicken suppers and who were partial toparties carres. It was to one of these small tables that Scott led hisparty. Altogether, thanks to the efforts of Mabel and her influence upon acertain invisible person whose identity changed often but who was alwaysto be identified as the "help," things were much better at theCommonwealth than one had a right to expect in a town the size of ChulaVista. Compared to Conejo, it was like entering into the promised l
and.
Mabel, herself, waited at table, and in the just opinion of most of theboarders, added fifty per cent, to the pleasure of the occasion. On thisparticular night the room was full and she had the assistance of a smilingyoung Mexican girl who waited on a company of her compatriots who sat atthe farthest of the small tables. They had just ridden in--their horsescould be seen outside at the rail. The back of the head of one of thesegentlemen interested Polly immensely. There was something about it whichreminded her strongly of Juan Pachuca.
"Do those Mexicans live in Chula Vista?" she asked Mabel, under cover of alaugh at one of Hard's stories.
"No, they're strangers," replied the girl. "I think they come from a ranchout of town."
Of course it couldn't be Pachuca! He was in hiding somewhere down yonder,and yet--the party was on her mind and she noticed it as it broke up andthe men passed out of the dining-room. She caught a side view of thesuspected one--it was Pachuca, without a doubt. Whether he saw her or notshe could not say but if he did he avoided showing it.
The girl's first inclination was to call Scott's attention to the Mexican;then she hesitated--it would mean trouble. There would be fighting andsomeone would be hurt. Scott's back was toward them and he talked alongquite innocent of the presence of Pachuca. While she hesitated the momentpassed, the Mexicans were out of the room and she saw them mount theirhorses and ride off. Scott and Hard were still deep in argument. WhetherClara saw or not Polly could not tell.
"Marc," Polly stopped beside him as they left the dining-room, "I've anasty little headache--shall you mind if I go to bed?"
Scott, a bit surprised, replied in the negative and Polly went on, herhand on his arm coaxingly:
"Did you find out that the train goes to-morrow?"
"Yes."
"Do I have to go on it?"
"There's no other way that I know of for you to go home."
"You won't come with me?"
"I can't leave the property when your brother's away; you know that."
"Well, I suppose you can't. It's very trying, isn't it?"
"It's not what I'd like." Scott, in spite of himself, smiled down into theserious eyes.
"Well, if I were as big as you and didn't like a thing, I'd change it,that's all. Good-night." She ran up the stairs.
Scott shrugged his shoulders and strode into the office of the hotel; theCommonwealth boasted no parlor--guests sat in the office or went to bed.Clara and Hard stood near the desk talking to Penhallow. Scott lit acigarette and went outside. The narrow strip of veranda was vacant. Hewalked moodily up and down.
Of course, if she had a headache--but it seemed queer to leave a fellow soearly on their last evening together for no one knew how long. Perhaps shewouldn't come back after all and he would wish that he hadn't given theold life a chance to call her and keep her. Then he thought of theparents--never having had any of his own as far as memory went, Scott felttheir claims strongly. He wanted the girl; wanted her so badly that hiswhole being ached to take advantage of her youth and impulsiveness; tomake the wedding in the morning a double one.
But Scott had not lived a hard life without learning to do without a thingif he chose to do without it; the thing might be a drink, it might be ahorse, it might be a woman. Still, Polly might have stayed down and walkedwith him a while in the moonlight--it wasn't much to ask. Hard and Clarahad come out, the latter muffled in her long cloak, and were walking downChula Vista's main artery toward the Padre's church. With a mutteredexclamation, Scott dug his hands into his pockets and went inside.
"I suppose I can sit in the office and gab with Sam," he growled, but Samhad disappeared. Scott picked up a newspaper and lit another cigarette.Suddenly, the door opened and Clara, visibly excited, appeared, followedby Hard.
"Mr. Scott, what do you think? We've just seen Juan Pachuca," declaredClara.
"Sure enough? I suppose he could slide over the border if he wanted to.Where'd you see him?"
"He was one of those three Mexicans who had dinner at that other smalltable--so Clara says," replied Hard.
"Your back was toward them," went on Clara. "Henry's never seen him, so ofcourse he wouldn't notice. I thought at the time that the man looked likePachuca but I didn't get a good view of him. We were going past thatlittle saloon down near the church and they came out and rode off. Hepretended not to see us."
"Where'd they go?" demanded Scott, with the dryness in his tone whichalways appeared when Pachuca was mentioned.
"Out of town--past the church. I'm going up to tell Polly what she'smissed," said Clara, as she ran up the narrow little stairway. "Girls havechanged--not a doubt about it," she thought, whimsically. "Fancy spendingthe last evening they have together moping upstairs with a headache!Wonder if anything's gone wrong?"
A few moments later she was back in the office with the two men.
"I can't find Polly," she said, in alarm. "I've been to my room and tohers and she isn't in either. Her hat and coat are gone, too."
Scott came out of his chair with a bound. "I knew that devil was here forno good," he said, starting for the door.
"Don't be a fool, Marc Scott!" Clara's voice was sharp and angry. "We sawPachuca and those two men go off on horseback. He hasn't carried offPolly!"
"I didn't say he'd carried her off," said Scott, doggedly. "She sat whereshe could see him at dinner. You saw him--so did she--and he saw her. Thisriding off is a blind----"
"You're going to be terribly ashamed of yourself for what you're saying. Iknow that girl. She wouldn't do a thing like that any more than I would.I'm going to see Mabel Penhallow and find out what she knows about it,"said Clara, angrily.
"I'm going to find that boy and choke the life out of him. Get out of myway, Hard."
"Look here, Scotty, that's not the way to handle this affair,"remonstrated Hard, barring Scott's progress toward the door and speakingwith a warmth unusual to him. "Let's get hold of Penhallow and tell himthat Pachuca's over on this side----"
"I don't need a sheriff to handle my affairs."
"This isn't your affair, it's the Government's. If this chap's got thenerve to think he can come over here after the way he's acted withAmerican property it's up to the Government to put him right."
"I can't find Mabel." Clara had returned, her face worried. "The Mexicangirl said she saw an automobile go by a quarter of an hour ago and thatPolly was in it. A Mexican was driving and she thought there was anotherman in the car. Marc, he has kidnapped her!"
But Scott had burst out of the room, followed by Hard. Clara, pale andfrightened, watched them from the window. Scott's blood was boiling. Atfirst, stung with a sense of injury at Polly's treatment of him, he hadleaped to the jealous conclusion that she had seen and communicated withPachuca. Scott was not a model lover. He was not of the type whichbelieves always until convinced by proof. He was a hot-blooded, jealous,none too good tempered man, who lost his head very easily when he believedhimself ill-treated. Now that he was beginning to realize that the affairmight have a different complexion--that the girl had perhaps beenoverpowered and carried off--he was furious in another way, this timeagainst Pachuca and against himself.
Mendoza had left his car outside his favorite saloon but the car was goneand so was Mendoza.
"I thought I could trust that old greaser but I guess I was wrong,"groaned Scott. "We'll get horses from the stable, Hard, and perhapsthey'll know something about it there."
Investigation revealed the fact that Mendoza had succeeded in getting hiscar out of town without attracting the attention of anyone but hisdish-washing compatriot. When it leaked out that there was a kidnappinginvolved, the chivalrous instincts of Chula Vista were aroused. Horseswere eagerly offered and a posse was to be formed as soon as Sam Penhallowcould be located. Unfortunately, the only machine in town, owned by thesheriff, had been loaned that morning to Ed Merriam who had driven it overto the railroad junction. In an incredibly short time, Scott and Hard wereclattering down the road which the three Mexicans had taken half
an hourbefore.
"It's useless, of course," grunted Scott "They'll meet the car and shakethe horses before we can get to them; but, by God, Hard, I'll get that boyif I have to comb New Mexico for him."
Hard was trying to be optimistic, but on a strange horse and with a lameknee, optimism came with difficulty. "I may be wrong, Scott," he said,between jolts; "but Pachuca doesn't seem to me to be just that kind of ascamp. He'd elope with your wife in a second if she gave him anopportunity, but I can't seem to see him carrying off your sweetheartagainst her will. There is such a thing as type, you know."
"In Boston, maybe. Out here a man's decent or he ain't," growled theother.
Hard relapsed into reflection. The road they were traveling forked atabout a mile out of town. Ahead of them, it continued on the flat; totheir left it became narrower and wound toward the foothills, remaining,however, a road possible for a car or a wagon.
"Which?" queried Hard, looking ahead as the fork became visible.
"The left," replied Scott. "They'll hit out for the hills. The other roadgoes along the railroad tracks."
"I don't think so," muttered Hard. "I think they'll stick to a good road."But Scott had spurred his horse. Hard followed him a moment in silence,then he called: "Scott, I hear a machine! By Jove, I see it--it's comingtoward us, down the main road."
Scott pulled up his horse. They peered into the dusk ahead of them. Thecar was coming toward them.
"You brought a gun, I suppose?" he asked.
Hard nodded. "What do we do?"
"Hold 'em up." They pulled their horses down to a walk. "No headlights,"observed Scott. "We'll keep this side of that little rise. If they haven'tseen us, they won't see us till they're on us."
"We don't shoot, I trust, until we know who they are," suggested Hard,mildly. "It strikes me they're going the wrong way for our men."
"They may be going to turn at the fork. If it's not them, it's someone whocan tell us if the Mexicans have gone this way."
The car, a small one, pulled up the hill and started down toward ChulaVista. Scott rode into the middle of the road.
"Stop!" he called, authoritatively. The car stopped. It was driven by afat man who was its only occupant.
"What's the matter with you fools?" he demanded, angrily. "Don't you knowthis here's the sheriff's car?"
Scott lowered his gun. "That so?" he said. "Then I suppose you'll be EdMerriam?"
"What business of yours is it?" replied Merriam, disgustedly, thoughapparently relieved at the removal of the weapon. Hard rode up quickly.
"Nothing, only we're out after a bunch of Mexicans who have kidnapped ayoung lady," he explained. "We thought we had them."
"See anything of a Ford car up the road?" demanded Scott.
"No. Say, who----"
"Or any Mexicans on horseback?"
"No. But----"
Scott turned to Hard. "I told you they'd taken the other road."
"Look here," demanded the fat man, excitedly. "Is this an honest-to-goshkidnapping? I say, it ain't Mabel Penhallow?"
"No, it ain't," grunted Scott. "Will you loan us that car for a couple ofhours?"
"You bet--pile in. Say, you boys give me an awful start. I'm going tomarry that girl." Merriam wiped his brow in relief.
"And I'm going to marry the girl those brutes have carried off," repliedScott, dismounting and turning his horse loose. Hard followed hisexample.
"Well, why didn't you say so at first?" demanded Merriam, as they got intothe car. "Man's a gabby animal, ain't he? Which way'd they go?"
"Up in the hills, we think," replied Hard.
"It ain't much of a road," said the driver, doubtfully. "Still, if theycan make it with one car we can with another, I reckon. Goes up WildcatCanyon after a bit; nobody living up there since that old Mexican died.Say, d'you suppose they'd take her up to that old cabin? Gosh, we'd betterhit it up!"
There was silence in the rear of the car. The two men saw in imaginationthe helpless girl and the tiny remote cabin. Scott leaned forward,devouring the road with despairing eyes. Hard sat beside him, quiet exceptwhen he answered Merriam's questions, sparing Scott, whose impatience andirritation made speech unendurable.
The new road led directly into the foothills. It was narrow and veryrough. The travelers were shaken about like marbles in a boy's pocket.Wildcat Canyon, into which the road ran, was of a real loneliness--aloneliness that penetrated one's consciousness like an odor or a sound. Oneither side the foothills rose, dark and forbidding; to the left of theroad a deep arroyo ran; on the other, the slope of the hill rose graduallyto the sky line. Ahead, the hills seemed to come together as the roadbecame narrower and wound in and out, becoming finally a trail. There wasno trace of habitation to be seen, though here and there a few rangecattle wandered.
"Cabin's about two miles up the canyon," volunteered Merriam. "Can't seeit from here, the road winds too much."
Scott interrupted him suddenly. "There they are!" he cried, pointing upthe road. Three horsemen were riding rapidly in the same direction withthe car.
"She's not with them, Scott," Hard said, thankfully.
Scott did not answer. In his mind, he still saw the auto with the girl init, going toward the cabin up the canyon. Well, at all events, JuanPachuca would not reach that cabin alive! Merriam threw the car into itsfull speed.
"They've piped us--see 'em cross the arroyo," he said. It was true. Thethree riders had plunged into the depths of the arroyo and were out on theother side. They did not seem to be running away, but kept to the rapidtrot which they had been riding.
"Don't know who we are and aiming to give us the idea that they're out fora little moonlight ride," remarked Merriam. "This car can go, can't she?Sam'd sure be sore if he knew I was runnin' her like this. Why don't webeat it up to the cabin and get the girl and let them mosey along bythemselves?"
"Because we don't know that's where they've taken her," said Scott,angrily. He concluded that Merriam had guessed right. Pachuca had noparticular reason to believe that the car held his enemies, or even thatScott and Hard knew him guilty of Polly's disappearance. They wouldsafeguard themselves by riding on the other side of the arroyo but theyevidently did not intend to be scared out of their road to any furtherextent.
The car was rapidly catching up with the riders and soon things must cometo a showdown. Scott fingered his gun lovingly.
"Hey, you guys, where you heading for?" demanded Merriam, loudly, as thecar came almost abreast of the three. They turned as the machine sloweddown to their pace. Before they could answer, Scott was out of the car andhad them covered.
"Pachuca, it's no use--we've got you," he called. "Hands up!"
The two Mexicans who evidently understood little English, though the magicwords, "hands up," probably penetrated their darkness, glanced at Pachucafor orders. The latter turned his horse and rode to the edge of thearroyo. He was his usual jaunty self, a little travel worn, but notdulled.
"Senor Scott?" he asked, peering through the dusk. "What do you want?"
Scott paused for a moment, daunted by the other's impudence.
"We want you, Pachuca," said Hard, peremptorily. "Come quietly and don'tforce us to use our guns--we don't want to."
Pachuca slid gracefully from his horse and took a few steps nearer theedge. "What's the trouble?" he demanded. "I won't come over till I knowwhat you want. We've got our guns, too."
"He's a cool one!" murmured Merriam, admiringly. While Pachuca had drawnthe attention of the Americans by his sudden move in their direction, histwo friends had ridden up behind him and stood with their guns ready foraction. It looked like a deadlock. Scott dropped his gun to his side.
"All right, put up your guns," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "We'lltalk it over."
The Mexicans got the idea if not the words and lowered their weapons.
"You know what I want you for," Scott went on, angrily. "Where is she?"
"She?" Pachuca's assumption of ignorance was masterly. It almost c
onvincedHard. "Who do you mean?"
"I mean Miss Street. You've kidnapped her or else your friends inMendoza's car have and you're on your way to join them. We want to knowwhere. Come, you can't get away with it."
"I've not seen the girl since that night at Athens--yes, I saw herto-night for a moment but I did not speak to her. I am here on business ofmy own with these gentlemen. If you have an officer of the law with youI'll show him my papers. If you haven't, I'll go on. If you shoot, we'llshoot."
"Anyone would think he had papers," murmured Hard to Merriam.
"Well, mebbe he has. They ain't so hard to get. What I want to know is howare we going to get him into the car?"
Scott tried to swallow his desire to choke the slim youth on the otherside. "Come, Pachuca," he said, "this won't get you anywhere. Either tellus where the girl is and go your way, or come over here and fight itout."
"I don't know where she is. As for fighting--well, if I kill you what do Iget out of it? Also, you might quite possibly kill me."
"If I only knew she was in the cabin, he could go and welcome," wasrushing through Scott's brain. "But I don't and I mustn't let him getaway."
Suddenly, a sound broke upon their ears--the sound of an automobile. Itwas coming down the canyon and coming fast. Merriam seized his horn.
"We can't have 'em coming down on us in this narrow place!" he cried,honking furiously. The other car answered. The Mexicans turned at thesound and Pachuca, casting a hurried glance at them over his shoulder,reached for his bridle. Scott raised his gun instantly.
"You stay where you are!" he yelled. "If those are your people we'll getthe lot of you; if they're not we've got you, anyhow, _sabe_?"
Pachuca gave one look at Scott and another at his flying friends. Then hethrew himself upon his horse's back, thrust the spur in deep, and as thehorse reared, drew his gun. His shot and Scott's rang out together as theyhad done once before in front of the store at Athens--but with a differentresult. Pachuca reeled, recovered, spurred the horse again and tore off inthe direction taken by the flying Mexicans; Scott stood looking furiouslyat him for a moment then staggered to the machine.
"He got me, Henry," he muttered, as he toppled over. "Look after thegirl."
And the other machine came rumbling on through the dusk.
CHAPTER XX
TREASURE TROVE
Polly Street went up to her room after leaving Scott but she did not go tobed. Nor did she behave in any way which suggested an alarming amount ofheadache. Instead, she opened her window and looked out. Her first glanceshowed Scott pacing scowlingly up and down the narrow veranda. Furtherdown the street she saw Mendoza's car parked in front of its owner'sfavorite saloon, next door, in fact, to the butcher's, in whose yard hungthe remains of the steer--an unhappy evidence of the truth of the adagethat in the midst of life we are in death. Mendoza was not visible, but itneeded no stretch of the imagination to locate him.
With a little sigh of satisfaction, Polly withdrew her head and remained amoment in thought; then she ran downstairs again. A cautious peep into theoffice showed Clara and Hard in conversation with Sam Penhallow. Sheglided into the dining-room where she found the good-looking Mabelfinishing the clearing off of the tables. Polly looked winningly into thetall girl's eyes.
"I want awfully to speak to your father about something; do you supposeyou could get him into the dining-room without anyone's knowing? I want toconsult him in his official capacity," she added with dignity.
"Oh!" said Mabel, surveying her guest calmly. "Do you mean as the sheriffor as the boss of this hotel? Because if it's that, you can see me. I'mthe real boss."
"Oh, as the sheriff, of course," replied Polly, hastily. "Anybody couldsee that you ran this hotel. It's much too well handled to be a man'sjob."
"Well," the tall girl unbent a trifle, "I don't mind telling you that Ithink so myself. Of course, as a sheriff Papa is all right. You wait hereand I'll fetch him and look after the office till you're through withhim."
In a moment or two Sam Penhallow entered the dining-room, his good-naturedface a trifle puzzled.
"Mabel said----" he began.
Polly smiled. "Yes, isn't she clever at managing things? You see, Mr.Penhallow, it's a case of 'Kind Captain, I've important information.'Won't you sit down?"
Sam sat down.
"In the first place, one of those Mexicans who had dinner here to-night isJuan Pachuca--the man who held up our mine a few days ago."
"What? Why didn't you say so before? I'd have----"
"I didn't think quick enough," admitted Polly, "and for another thing Iknew that if Mr. Scott saw him there would be trouble. He has reasons fordisliking Pachuca--apart from the raid, at least, he thinks he has." Pollyblushed in spite of herself.
"I get you," responded Penhallow, instantly.
"I thought you would. You seem to me like that sort of a man. Now, I wantto ask you something; did you ever hear of a Mexican named 'Gasca' wholived around here?"
Penhallow, a little mystified, seemed to be thinking.
"A Mexican who had an Indian wife and who was murdered?" went on Polly.Much to her disappointment, this minute description did not seem to clearSam's mind.
"You see, that fits so many of them," he said, apologetically.
"The wife died after he was killed," hazarded the girl, anxiously.
"Hold on--you mean the old duffer who lived up Wildcat Canyon?" demandedPenhallow. "Woman had a stroke--they found her up there dead. Their namewas 'Gasca' or 'Gomez' or something of that kind."
"I knew it!" Polly's voice was triumphant. "If I don't make Marc Scottapologize to me----" Then, calming herself, she continued: "I'm going tospin you a yarn, Mr. Penhallow, and then you've got to help me out."
"Fire away," said the gallant Penhallow and Polly repeated as nearly asshe could remember the tale that Juan Pachuca had told her that night inAthens. Penhallow's eyes snapped.
"By gum, I bet you're on the trail! He and those Mexicans are looking upthe stuff."
"Of course they are, but why do they come on horseback? They can't carrybullion on their saddles."
"They probably don't more than half believe the yarn themselves," saidSam, meditatively. "They're just snooping round to see if there's anythingin it. And automobiles ain't so common round here that you can pick one upevery time you feel like hunting treasure, either. I own the only one intown and I loaned it to-day to a good-for-nothing guy that's courtin'Mabel, worse luck!"
"We've got Mendoza and his Ford," said Polly, eagerly. "If I run up andget my hat and coat, will you slip down and pry him out of that saloon andthe three of us run out to Wildcat Canyon before those Mexicans can getthere?"
"You bet I will," replied the willing Sam.
"Oh, Mr. Penhallow, you're the kind of man that I admire!" Polly's eyesshone. "You've got imagination--it's the only thing Marc Scott hasn'tgot."
"Well," grinned Penhallow, "I wouldn't worry about that if I was you; itain't such an awful good quality to marry. My wife used to kick about it awhole lot." But Polly was gone. "I knew it!" chuckled Sam. "I knew Scottywas meditatin' matrimony by the way he jumped me. Fine girl, that. For tencents I'd give him a run for his money."
Faced with the alternative of driving his car or allowing someone else todo it, Mendoza capitulated and allowed Penhallow to coax him out of thesaloon. They drove down the street back of the houses and were joined byPolly who was waiting in the shadow for them. The Mexican girl saw the caras it passed the kitchen window, as she afterward told Clara, but failedto recognize Penhallow who sat on the further side.
"Do we have to pass the Mexicans or can we go another way?" asked Polly.
"We can take another road and beat them to the fork," said Penhallow."Then we'll have the canyon to ourselves. This way, Mendoza."
"You know, Mr. Penhallow, this gold was stolen from one of the mines ownedby our company," said the girl. "That's one reason I'm so anxious to findit. It will mean something to my brother."
"Sur
e it will."
"There ought to be a reward, oughtn't there? Not that I care about that;the excitement's enough for me."
"Fond of excitement, are you?"
"I'm afraid so. I'll have to get over that, I suppose."
"Not if you marry Marc Scott," said Marc's loyal friend, quite forgettinghis sinister intentions. "There's nothing tame about Marc. I'd hate to bethe woman who tried to fool him. She would have some job on her hands."
"Well, she'd have to be cleverer than I am to do it," sighed Polly,sadly.
"Well, I don't know. Say, what's your idea of finding this junk, anyhow?Where d'you reckon it'd be? Above ground?"
Polly looked a bit taken back. "I never thought of that," she admitted."It's the first time I ever hunted treasure. Where do you think it willbe?"
"Well, if you want the truth, I ain't looking for it to be there at all.My idea is that Gasca got rid of it and that's why they killed him. Andyet----"
"Yes?"
"Kind of funny the woman hung around after he died. The natural thingwould have been for her to have gone back to her people, wouldn't it?"
"Of course it would. I know it's there."
"If you know it's there it's a pity I didn't bring along a couple ofpickaxes," said Sam, with a grin. "All the treasures I ever heard aboutcalled for pickaxes, skeletons and an old family chart."
"Oh, have it your own way!" said the aggravated Polly. "But who, I'd liketo know, would have come up to this lonely place to look for gold, and howcould an ignorant old Mexican like Gasca dispose of it without gettinginto trouble?"
"Well, mebbe so. Anyhow, here's your cabin."
The cabin was situated up the canyon on the right hand side of the road.It was a little wooden shack, sagging and discolored, its windows brokenand its whole appearance denoting that utter desolation to which only adeserted homestead can attain; not even a human wreck can equal thissilent abandonment. It had been a fairly decent place once; there wereoutbuildings which evidenced past association with pigs and chickens,while back of the house stood a wooden cart such as country people use forhauling wood or hay.
In the dusk, that saddest of sad times, between sunset and moonrise,Wildcat Canyon presented an awesome appearance. The hills were outlinedsharply and darkly against the sky; the little stream that dribbled pastthe cabin was so quiet that it seemed the ghost of water; there was nomovement--no sound--no suggestion of life.
Polly drew a long breath. "What a dreadful place to live!" she murmured,her spirits dashed for a moment. A woman had lived here--a woman stolenfrom her people. Had lived--and, stricken and alone, had died here. Pollythought of her own spoiled and sheltered life and her eyes filled.
In the meantime, Sam Penhallow took in the view with intense disfavor. "Inever was partial to Wildcat Canyon," he remarked, pessimistically. "Icaught a cattle thief up here once. He hid behind that rock and gave us areal nasty time before we got him. Well, since we're here we may as wellget busy. Can't you get us a little nearer, Mendoza? This is pretty far totote gold bars."
"Oh, laugh if you want to," said Polly, indulgently. "Since I've seen theplace I'm sure it's here."
"I'll say this," remarked Penhallow, "if I had anything I wanted to hideand didn't want any fools blunderin' into, I couldn't pick a likelierplace to hide it in than this one--whether it was gold or a body."
Mendoza ran them within a few yards of the hut and they got out. Gasca'slate residence did not improve on closer inspection. The door hung looselyon its hinges and once within, its dark recesses suggested many things notaltogether pleasant. There was little furniture and that broken and poor;the hut boasted two rooms and the floor was merely the ground. There wasnothing to suggest hidden treasure, and no place where it could besecreted as far as the visitors could see. Even the fireplace yielded nosecrets.
"How stupid of us!" declared Polly, determined not to be discouraged. "Ofcourse it wouldn't be in here or they would have found it when they tookthe poor woman away. Let's go outside and think."
"My idea is that it's either buried or they got rid of it," saidPenhallow, promptly. It had suddenly occurred to him that Mendoza was apoor chaperon for a good-looking widower--not old--and a pretty girlengaged to Marc Scott. It was a disturbing idea, for Sam was of aconventional turn of mind. "If he's buried it, we'll have to dig all overthe place, and I take it none of us is much on the dig."
"Wait a minute, I've got an idea myself," said Polly, with dignity. "Youlook in the chicken-house and I'll take a peep into the shed in thecorral."
Sam shrugged his shoulders and started for the chicken-house.
"Scott's gettin' his match all right," he muttered, rebelliously. "Goin'to make him toe the chalk line, that girl."
"Mr. Penhallow, come here!" Polly's voice was shrill and excited. "Comehere!"
"Comin', lady. Did you find it?"
"Look here." Polly was at the side of an old cart, peering and pokingthrough the sticks of wood and bits of old straw which filled it. "See,down there--doesn't that look to you like something?"
Sam Penhallow felt a sudden thrill; a thrill he had not known the like ofsince he led the posse across the border after the kidnapping bandit. Hebent an excited gray eye over the hole indicated.
"Sure does look like there was somethin' besides wood in there--somethin'bulky, and there's some sacking.--Hi, Mendoza, come here and lend ahand!"
In the meantime he and Polly began throwing the wood out of the wagon.
"My idea is that Gasca hid it in the wagon because he thought no one wouldsuspect anything there," said Polly, "and he could haul it away in a hurryif they did."
"It's more likely he buried it and after he died the woman dug it up andpacked it in here meaning to go South with it and then got sick and diedbefore she had the chance."
"Well, I said you had imagination. That's a much better theory than mine,"said Polly, generously. "But why didn't somebody take the wagon?"
"Well, it ain't much of a wagon. I reckon they took the horse and the pigsand chickens and let the rest slide. The wood don't amount to much; juststicks she's picked up."
Mendoza, quite of the opinion that the couple whom up to this time he hadsuspected of nothing more alarming than an elopement, had suddenly gonevery mad, stolidly chucked wood out of the wagon lest a worse thing bedemanded of him.
"There!" The three gathered around the half-empty wagon in excitement,even Mendoza manifesting a slight degree of zest when through the layer ofstraw, half covered with sacking, was revealed a number of rough lookingblocks, in shape resembling large loaves of bread. Penhallow lifted onewith difficulty.
"That's what it is, girl," he cried, his eyes glistening. "It's goldstraight from the mine. Why, what's the matter?"
"It's so disappointing," murmured the girl; "it looks like old junk."
"Well, it's pretty good old junk. I only wish it was mine, don't you,Mendoza? This stuff, Mendoza, all belongs to some rich guys who own a lotof mines down yonder. Big, fat chaps who sit in easy chairs back ofmahogany tables and let other fellows earn their money for them; finebusiness, eh?"
Mendoza grinned--a comprehending if not a lovely grin.
"_Si_," he grunted. "I seen them fat fellers up in San Antone. All got desickness of de kidney or de stomach. Me, I rather be poor man and live onde outside."
"Well, that ain't bad for an old heathen, eh, Miss Polly?" chuckledPenhallow. "Come on, we've got to load this stuff into the Ford beforethose greasers get here."
"How much do you think there is?" asked Polly, eagerly.
"Oh, I don't know--a few thousands, I guess. I've a notion old Gasca hadto whack up with the fellows who helped him get it across. It's no fortunebut it's going to give us lame backs moving it and I reckon the Companywill be glad to see it again."
It was a hard load to move and long before the transfer was made Pollyacknowledged that she was glad they hadn't made a bigger haul. It wasgrowing darker, too, and Wildcat Canyon began to seem less and less thesort of place for a picni
c.
"Well, little lady," observed Penhallow, as they started down the canyon,"you've done a good night's work for your brother. Say, Mendoza, don'tthat look like a car to you down yonder?"
Polly sat up suddenly. "I thought you said that you owned the only car intown?"
"I do. That's why I've a notion that that's mine, though why Ed Merriamshould be flourishin' it around here, I don't know."
"Car, yes," agreed Mendoza. "Make 'em back up. Can't pass there."
At the same moment the other car honked excitedly and Mendoza answered.
"There are some men on horseback there, aren't there?" said Polly,straining her eyes.
"On the other side of the arroyo--yes. Hullo, guns! Say, Ed's in trouble!Shake a leg, Mendoza--we got to look into this. Girlie, you can lie downif they shoot, do you hear?"
"Yes," breathed Polly, excitedly.
They could see plainly now. They saw two of the mounted men dash off andthe other, reeling in his saddle, but holding gamely to his seat, dashafter them. Then they saw two men from the automobile spring to supportthe third who had fallen.
"Gosh, I hope that ain't Ed!" said Penhallow. "I don't like the guy much,but Mabel would have my blood if I let him get plugged and me on the spotdoing nothing."
"Not Merriam," said Mendoza, darkly. "Merriam and Senor Hard carry theman."
"Hold on!" But Penhallow was too slow. The car was slowing down and Pollywas out in the road. Penhallow followed her.
"Is--is he killed?"
Hard looked up from his task of reviving Scott, with the contents of hiswhiskey flask and saw to his amazement a white-faced Polly Street bendingover him.
"Polly!" he gasped. "Then they didn't get you, after all?"
"Is he killed?" The girl's voice was sharp and hard.
"No, he ain't," Penhallow's hearty voice broke in. "It takes more than onebullet to kill a tough bird like Scotty."
Marc opened his eyes, grinned feebly and shut them again, not before hehad seen Polly's anxious face bending over him.
"They--Pachuca didn't----"
"Not a bit of it, old man," Hard broke in. Then to Polly: "We thoughtPachuca had carried you off."
Polly stared at him in horror. "Carried me off?" she gasped. "Were thosemen----" she paused, dazed. Hard explained.
Sam Penhallow in the meantime had tackled his prospective son-in-law.
"Where'd they get him, Ed?"
"Shoulder. Don't look to me like no vital spot."
"Well, we ain't all got our vitals as protected as you have, Ed," repliedthe sheriff, scathingly. "What was you up here for, anyhow?"
"Scott got it into his head that his girl had been kidnapped by Mexicansand he got us up here after three of 'em. Looks to me, Father-in-law, likehe'd picked the wrong kidnapper."
"That'll do, Ed; fat folks was made to look funny, not to talk smart.Here, let's get this boy bandaged up before he bleeds to death."
Polly, white and frightened, looked on as Penhallow's experienced handstore up a shirt and made it into a bandage. The wound looked very vital toher and she would have given up hope a dozen times if it hadn't been forPenhallow's cheerful monologue.
"That's the idea! Say, you boys better guess what this girl and I got inthat Ford. We've been after treasure. Oh, you're waking up, are you?" asScott opened his eyes. "I thought you would. You won't josh your wife muchabout Gasca and his hidden gold, I'm thinkin'."
"It's all my fault," wept the girl. "If I'd only told you where I wasgoing this wouldn't have happened. Oh, Marc, I'm so sorry!"
"Well, you ain't the only one that's sorry, I reckon," grinned Merriam."That Mexican ain't going to do much ridin' for a while by the looks ofhim."
"Humph!" Penhallow and Hard lifted Scott gently into the car. "Don't worryabout him. He's had this coming to him for some time by all accounts andthe worst of it is his hide's probably so tough he won't know it's beenpunctured." Penhallow spat disgustedly.
* * * * *
The return of the two cars, the one with the treasure and the other withthe missing girl, made a sensation quite after Chula Vista's own heart.When it became known that the doctor had pronounced Scott's wound notdangerous but requiring care and quiet, the situation was all that couldbe desired. They would have been happier still could they have heardPolly's ultimatum, delivered the following morning when she and Scott werealone together a few minutes before Clara's wedding. Scott had insistedthat the wedding should not be postponed for even a day.
"You're needed in Athens, Hard," he said. "With Bob and me both in thediscard, you've got to stand by the ship." So the wedding had been set forten o'clock, Polly's train leaving for the railroad junction at noon.
"Now, Marc, listen to me," Polly said. Her tone was severe. "I've neverbeen really stern with you since our acquaintance. I've always given inand let you have the biggest piece of cake. Now I mean what I say. I'm notgoing back and leave you here, sick and alone. Besides, Mrs. Conradchanged her mind last night. She's going to Athens with Mr. Hard."
"There's Mabel Penhallow--she'd look after me," replied Scott, mildly.
"Well, she shan't. Let her look after that fat thing she's going to marry.No, I'm going to stay here until you're well again, and by that time myreputation will be in shreds--perfect shreds."
"Well, I think it will, too, but what can I do?"
"You can let me tell that minister to come right over here and marry uswhen he's through with the others," said Polly, firmly. Then, with tearsin her eyes: "Oh, Marc, don't you see I don't like doing underhand thingsany more than you do, but I can't go away and leave you like this? I knowmy people and I know what they'll say. They'll say I did the rightthing."
"Well, girlie, I don't know--I'd rather like to see Hard and Mrs. Conradmarried, myself. Don't you think maybe you could get the Padre to do bothjobs over here?"
Thus it was that a double wedding took place in the small room which theinvalid occupied. Chula Vista, or at least those citizens who were allowedto witness the ceremony, were loud in their praises of the brides. EdMerriam was particularly impressed and begged earnestly that it might bemade a triple affair, but, as Mr. Penhallow justly observed, you canoverdo even a good thing if you try hard enough. Ed was obliged to contenthimself with the role of spectator. Mr. Penhallow, himself, was a busyman. He not only acted as best man at both ceremonies, but he also had thegold on his nerves. It was removed immediately after the weddings--in thefirst spare moment that the best man had--to a near-by town whichpossessed banking facilities, a full account of its recovery being sent toRobert Street. This arrived in the same mail with a letter from Polly, andBob celebrated his first sitting up by breaking the news to his parents.
"Tell you what, folks," he said, "while it's a bit of a blow to have ourbaby cut loose like this, there's something to be said on the other side.Marc Scott's a first-class fellow and he'll make her a much better husbandthan that Henderson chap ever would."
"But, Bob dear, what sort of a man is he?" Mrs. Street's delicate faceexpressed alarm neatly blended with horror.
"That," replied her husband, briefly, "is what I am going to find out.There's a train going west in about two hours and if you wish me to carryyour blessing to our wayward child I shall be happy to do so."
Mr. and Mrs. Hard went south in Mendoza's Ford. Theirs was a gentleromance, with more poetry in it than the bride suspected. Two people sothoroughly suited to each other do not always have the happiness to meetat just the right time.
"For it is just the right time, Clara," Hard said. "A little earlier andwe might not have had the wisdom to fall in love again with each other; alittle later and we might have felt too old and dignified to think of it.I consider that we took things in the nick of time."
The success of the revolution, which resulted in the presidency of AlvaroObregon, made popular a movement against the bandits which have flourishedso long in Mexico. The case of Angel Gonzales was handled early onemorning by a firing squad
in the courtyard of Juan Pachuca's countryresidence. The evidence against Angel was cumulative, the episode of theYaqui village being only one of many interesting exploits in which he hadfigured.
Just how much the escape of Juan Pachuca was due to the connivance of hiscaptors will probably never be known. The general opinion, however, wasthat while his misdeeds were not to be condoned, in view of the friendlysentiments on the part of the new Government toward the United States; atthe same time they were considered hardly of a nature to subject agentleman to the fate of a bandit. Cared for by his friends on the otherside while his wound was healing, Pachuca is still living peacefully andvery quietly on our side of the border, waiting, probably, the opportunityto return to his country to help along another revolution.
Scott and Polly will be happy. They are happy at present, and are nolonger at Athens; the Fiske, Doane Co. having appointed Scott to a betterposition in one of its Arizona mines, a delicate compliment, he says, tohis wife's services in the little matter of the Gasca treasure.
THE END