Over the Border: A Novel

by Herman Whitaker

  XXXIV: ---------------------?

  Left alone on the trail, Gordon suffered his own agonies--the poignantanguishes of youth unmitigated by the fatalism or philosophy ofexperience. Time and again his spirit rose in furious rebellion againstthe frightful injustice of fate. Eyes starting with the strain, sweatpouring from his brow, he rolled in successive paroxysms, vainlystriving to burst his bonds--only to subside each time into a coma ofutter despair. Then, as the very violence of his exertions cleared theblood from his brain, he did that which an older head would have done atfirst--lay still and began to think.

  How to get loose! There must be some way! He had once seen a prisoner ina "movie" burn off his bonds with a fire of hay started by the coalsfrom his pipe. But if it were possible--outside of a "movie"--where werethe hay and pipe? An attempt to cut the _riata_ by abrasion on a stonebehind him produced only a sore on his wrists. Yet there must be someway! If he could only loosen them by flexing and reflexing his muscles!He stopped thinking, at this point, and lay staring downhill.

  His struggles had carried him to within a few feet of the deadrevolutionist. Before leaving, his followers had looted the body of itsguns, bandolier of cartridges, but had left the belt. Under the bodyGordon now caught a glimpse of his knife.

  To roll downhill was simple. With his butting shoulders, it was no trickto move the body till the knife came up into position where he coulddraw it with his teeth. But thereafter--a knife in the teeth could notbe used to free hands bound behind one's back!

  He looked about him. The problem was simple. If the knife could be heldfirmly so that he could turn and rub the wrist-cords against the edge.Presently his eye lit on the stump of a _palo verde_ that had beenbruised and split off by the slip of some passing beast. Working his wayover to it, he bent and carefully placed the horn handle in the split,edge up, point resting at an angle of forty-five on the ground. Then,shuffling around, he felt delicately till the razor edge came squarelybetween his wrists. Very lightly, in mortal dread of a miscarriage, hesawed, sawed, sawed until his hands suddenly split apart. One slash athis ankles and he was upon his feet.

  His first thought was to run, wildly, madly, after Lee. Then his usualgood judgment resumed command. The revolutionists were mounted and hadan hour's start! He must have a horse! And with the thought there rose amental picture of the _arriero_ they had seen at the _fonda_.

  A general freighter, the fellow often brought cordwood and charcoal fromthe mountains into Los Arboles, and in seasons of sickness and want Leehad helped him and his family out. Undoubtedly he would be willing tohelp.

  He started running up the steep and backward along the trail, and nowthe fates relented and threw a piece of big luck in his way. For as hecame swinging along the flank of the mountain, a tinkle of bells roseout of the canon; a black head shoved up from below; urged on by the_arriero's_ sharp hisses and driving curses, three mules came scramblingup out on the level.

  The sight of a man, breathless, dusty, and disheveled, running at topspeed with a naked knife in his hand, meant to the _arriero_ only onething. The celerity with which, slipping from the saddle, he trained hisrifle across the animal's back showed how he came to be still riding thetrails when mule-trains had been swept away by raids and "requisitions."As he had seen Lee pass the _fonda_ with Gordon, one word,"revolutionists," fully explained the situation, and though Gordon gotonly about a third of his voluble Spanish, it was easy to understand hisclucks of commiseration.

  "Carried off! Tut! tut! tut! She that was so kind to the poor! suppliedremedies to my own ninas when they fell ill of a fever! Josefina willcry her eyes out over this!"

  Neither did he stop with idle sympathy. While talking he pulled thehitches and with one shove sent a cargo of pottery on his likeliest mulecrashing to the ground. Then, while hastily rigging a saddle out ofserapes and cord, he filled the air with crackling Spanish, larding hisquestions with frightful oaths.

  "How many were they, senor? Six? And you shot one. Bueno! bueno! Thatleaves us but two and a half apiece. Would that I might gut them allwith one flick of my knife! Take thou this."

  It was an old Colt with a barrel a foot long. Motioning to his ownriding-mule, he ran on:

  "You shall ride her, senor, for she is easier in her gait than the boatsof the sea. Some there are that will tip the nose at a mule for riding.But in the mountains they will travel three miles to a horse's two. Anhour's start have they? Then by shoving hard we should come on them infive, or less if they camp at dark."

  He had now finished his saddling. A stream of hisses plus a few pistolcracks of his long mule-whip sent the remaining animals scampering backdown the ravine to the lush grass by the _fonda_, where old Antoniowould care for them. Then, springing up on the mule, he sat, rifleacross his arm, saddle _machete_ and knife close to his hand, black eyesglittering under his _sombrero_, a wild, dangerous, bandit figure, readyfor the start.

  Thus, mounted on a mule instead of the gallant steed of fiction, didGordon go in pursuit. But that which the animal lacked in looks it madeup in utility. Justifying its owner's boast, it navigated steeps, sliddown into canons sure-footed as a goat, crawled like a fly up theopposite walls, moved forward on the levels at a swift, easy, rockingpace. To the eye of the great, scarlet-crested vulture, sailing on freewing half a mile above, pursued and pursuers appeared as dust clouds,now rising from the deep trough between two great earth waves, againhovering like smoke on the crest of a hill. But by the bird it wouldeasily have been seen that as the hours slid by the second gainedsteadily upon the first.

  Fast as the little beasts traveled, however, their pace appeared like aninsect's crawl when measured by Gordon's fears. Action, at first,brought relief. Later he fell again a prey to anguish. The threat of therevolutionists filled him with horror through which, as in a dreadfulnightmare, he saw Lee struggling frantically. Of Ramon he never eventhought. It was always the men. Yet he managed to hold himself in hand;refrained from lashing the mule into the furious pace that would, whilekilling it, have still lagged far behind his fears.

  And he had always at his side the _arriero_, with his repeated, "Do nottrouble, senor; they will keep traveling till dark!" to cheer him.

  The latter's sharp glance it was that picked out the sign where therevolutionists had swung on to the San Carlos trail. His hawk eyesfound, just before sundown, dust rising like yellow smoke on theopposite hills. When darkness covered the tossing earth with its solemnveil it was he, again, that saw the first flare when the revolutionists'fire blossomed like a red rose in the black heart of a valley. Lastly,it was his knowledge of the country that made it possible for them,after tying the mules at a safe distance, to crawl up until, gentlyshoving the bushes aside, Gordon looked out and saw under the red lightof the fire the revolutionists at their gambling and Lee seated besideRamon.

  "One to me, little one," Ilarian's bellow just then rang out. "Be notimpatient. Soon we shall take a little pasear together."

  At the sight of Ramon, the _arriero's_ brows had gone up under the rootsof his hair, for, had he wished it, Gordon's Spanish would not havepermitted a full explanation. Now he touched Gordon, pointing. Nodding,he nipped off a few leaves, then leveled the long Colt, aiming at thenearest man. A glance to his right showed him the _arriero_ slowlyshoving his rifle-barrel through the leaves. Then, turning again to hisaim, he was just in time to see Lee slash Ramon's bonds.

  The next instant the latter sprang for the rifles. Lee was up andstanding almost in line with the man he had covered. He dared not shoot,and in the next five seconds, before they could readjust themselves tothe rapid change, the situation had flashed into its final stage--Ramonhad fallen with one revolutionist; the others were rushing at Lee acrossthe firelit space.

  By that time Gordon had risen. As, standing, he fired from the edge ofthe wood a second man fell forward upon his face. The _arriero's_ riflecracked sharply, and there remained only Ilarian. Swinging with Lee,still in his arms, he faced Gordon charging across the firelit space.

>   Usually Gordon could be depended upon to keep his head. But Lee's bittercry, the sight of her helplessness, combined with the awful strain ofthe afternoon, produced in him a berserker rage. Teeth bared in a snarl,his gun completely forgotten, he seized Ilarian with his naked handsjust as he dropped Lee; threw him with such violence that his feet rosein the air and he struck shoulders first on the ground. Then, withouteven a second glance, he lifted and gathered Lee in his arms.

  Fortunately, the _arriero_ not only kept his wits, but was working themovertime. As, rolling over, Ilarian pulled and pointed his gun the_arriero's_ second bullet plumped between his shoulders.

  It is doubtful whether Gordon heard the shot. His face in Lee's hair,hers hidden in his breast, they remained without looking around evenwhen the _arriero_ spoke.

  "Warm work, senor!"

  Receiving no answer, he grinned and gently tapped the side of his nose."They are all that way--at first," he confided in the stars. "But waittill the priest ties them so that neither can wriggle without the other.Wait!"

  A cough also passing unnoticed, he walked over and knelt beside Ramon.With a heavy shake of the head, he passed to the revolutionists. Threewere dead, but, though unconscious, Ilarian still breathed stertorously.

  "The worse for thee, amigo," the _arriero_ addressed him. "The old senorIcarza will pay well to do thy killing with his own hands. By sunrise,manana, I should have thee to him, and then"--he gave a little sinisternod at the dead--"and then thou wilt be envying these."

  A glance at the lovers having shown them to be, to all intents andpurposes, still alone under the stars, he went off, shaking his head, tobring up the mules. "Santa Maria Marisima! to think that I, also, wasonce so foolish!"

  On his return he gathered up the arms, belts, knives, bandoliers ofcartridges, guns--it has to be written, also stripping the khaki coatsand riding-boots from the dead. "They will serve thee no more after theold senor finishes," he addressed the unconscious Ilarian, as he toreoff his.

  While he was packing his loot in an orderly and methodical manner on themules a murmur of talk rose behind him. But as it was couched in Englishhe was saved from further reflections.

  "Oh--_dear!_" Lee's exclamations, partially smothered in a rough anddirty shirt, still conveyed a curious mixture of confidence and fear,regret, relief, sorrow, and happiness, hope and doubt. "Oh--_dear!_ Iused to be so independent and fearless. Now--I feel so weak."

  "Time you did." A hug mitigated the severity of the comment. "After thisperhaps you will let me do a little of your thinking?"

  "For a while." The shirt choked a little, perverse laugh. "Till I getover it."

  "Very well, we are going on, right now, to be married in San Carlos."

  "Oh, but--"

  "No 'buts.' We'll take no more chances."

  She hesitated and--gave in. "Oh, isn't it nice to have some one decidefor you?"

  Had the _arriero_ been consulted he could have told a tale. But Gordonquite believed it. He was raising her face to his when her eyesdistended with a sudden sorrow.

  "Oh, poor Ramon! Whatever are we thinking of?"

  Shocked at her own thoughtlessness, she turned. But the _arriero_ hadfinished his packing, now stood beside Ramon. His shake of the head senther back into Gordon's arms, and as she sobbed on his shoulder the_arriero_ took affairs into his own capable hands.

  "I shall take him home to the old senor, with this wicked one, and tellhim that he died in defense of thee."

  With the most careful planning, it could not have been managed better."They will never--know," she sobbed, more quietly. "And--at the end--hewas sorry."